


Apriltober 2020

by NullNoMore



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Apriltober, Biahno Water Plant, Cauldros, Chapters 23-25 interconnect, Corwin and Bates, Dorian caravan in Oblivia, Doug laments his paycheck, Doug's sports car, Dr. Karen is a force, Family Issues, Frye as model soldier lol, Frye is just fine don't worry, Guns Empress yes I went there, I am so sorry about what happens in my brain, I need a hankie now, Job Swap, Kiweggs, Lakeside Getaway, Lila & Jack fluff I deserve it because, Lila Brown AU, Ma-non, Neesae hates French class, Nopon - Freeform, Nopon merch, Of Mice and Men - Freeform, Orpheans, Phog can MacGyver, Phog goes free climbing, Puge, Regina (Xenoblade Chronicles X), Rosalee the OC meets SOMEONE, Skells, Tobias and Veven and Graham oh my, Tobias is a greedhead or a nice guy discuss, West Gate Station, Wrothian curry lessons, a little harm to Graham but he'll be okay, blue speech bubbles ftw, chapters 14-18 interconnect, cultural exchange on the Ma-non ship, do I need to put all the NPCs in the characters because I'm partial to NPCs, does this count as a Steinbeck fanfic?, final battle celebration, glamping in Sylvalum, how does Mira translate stuff anyway, impossible quests are also fun, life in the Repenta parking lot, man vs Prone, more chatter about armor, natural remedies for life's problems, never go drinking with Interceptors, prone, sadness on Mira and Earth, sandstorms, skell repairs, skell yes, sky whales, sneaking and sniping, sympathy about husbands, tectinsula, that quest, the cave music slaps, the seamy underbelly of NLA, trying to sound like L is fun, visigel poison orbs why do we need so many anyway?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 23,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullNoMore/pseuds/NullNoMore
Summary: The plan: a very short story a day, all kinds. A lot of canon characters but also OCs. We start with Hope and Phog swapping jobs. Maybe I'll talk about Frye getting a pet, or Rosalee the OC getting a date. All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Wish me luck and drop a suggestion and see what happens.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. April Fools Swap

**Author's Note:**

> Apriltober begins, with a continuation of an April Fools thing. Hope and Phog are swapping their jobs in NLA and are finding it rather too hard.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Hope stood in the shade of the construction crane, once again nagging herself to stay in character. She had swapped with Phog for this year's job swap prank for April Fool's Day. She had expected it to be easy: wear some trek shorts, stand in one place, look at the ground, not talk to people. Within the first 15 minutes, she found herself chatting gently with a curious visitor, inquiring about the visitor's life and goals. She'd had to shake her head at her weakness, and had resolved to do better. She needed to stay in NLA; while her combat skills were equal to Phog's, she could never replace his phenomenal skills of materials analysis in the field. So she was stuck in this corner, trying to maintain a quietness that had never felt so difficult. Again and again, her eyes caught those of others, pleading with them to approach and start talking to her. It was hopeless, and a little boring, trying to portray her friend, but Hope was determined to keep trying.

Her comm device jingled and she reached for it gratefully. A short text from her counterpart.

_gotta swap back can't_

She replied immediately. _What's wrong?_

_can't_

She looked over at the park, where she could just barely spot Phog. He was sitting on a bench, hunched over his own device. Even if she could read his expression from this distance, his floofy blond hair was hiding his face. She tapped back: _Meet me at the Cathedral in 5 minutes._

_k_

She wasn't sure why she didn't want to meet him in the park. Admitting defeat by swapping back there seemed too shameful. It was fine that they couldn't keep up with the challenge, but swapping back in public broke the fun for everyone somehow. When she reached the church, she didn't see him at once, until he stood up from where he had been crouched in a bed of flowers. He looked dreadful, his face almost as white as his hair. Hope's heart squeezed in sympathy. She'd been struggling, but Phog had been suffering.

"It's okay, Phog. I understand. We tried our best. It doesn't matter that listening is hard."

Phog shook his head in a whirl of shaggy haircut. "It isn't the listening. I listen to the city all day, and to the planet. But having to listen the way people want me to? I miss thinking my own thoughts."

"So we'll switch back. We did the whole morning, didn't we?" To prove her wrong, the church bells chimed 1000.

Phog looked at her curiously. "It was hard for you too, wasn't it?"

Hope looked at the heavens for a moment, then answered honestly. "Yes. I guess looking at ants on the ground isn't enough for me. I like hearing from people."

"I don't mind hearing. That corner actually has excellent acoustics, if you're careful. But the answering ..." He shuddered, then stood up straight. Hope had forgotten how tall he was. "But we can do this." He didn't look any better, in spite of the resolve in his face.

Hope clasped her hands worriedly. "Perhaps you could swap with someone else. Your brother?"

Phog gave her the sweetest smile. "Do you really trust Frye with giving life advice?"

"No, I suppose not." She had to smile at the thought herself.

"Besides, he's swapped with L today. Taking other BLADEs slots in missions is unacceptable."

"Oh, Phog, this is supposed to be fun! It isn't a mission." But the pained look on his face made her wonder if it wasn't just as menacing for him as facing a superior tyrant. She thought a moment longer. "Would it be okay to change the swap a little, though?"

"No." The bells chimed the first quarter hour. "I guess coffee break is over."

"Of course! I have an idea. I know someone that would love to swap, and has a job that might work better. How are you at brewing espresso?"

"Never done it. I like plain milk."

"You'll be perfect."

The rest of the day went much better, if not faster. Jo the inept but grateful barista was eager to fill in for Hope, even if she struggled to listen to anyone to the end of a question. Phog proved to be as much a mechanical genius with an espresso machine as he was with every other technology. Coco, the cafe owner, was surprised to have a competent employee, and equally surprised to miss the vivacity of her klutzy regular.

And Hope? She tried again, using Phog's hints. She listened to the whole city, to the sky above her, to the ground below, to the hum of all the citizens, and yes, even to the ants at her feet. Her own thoughts shyly took first priority, and she listened to those as well. When the bells chimed for dinnertime and the sky darkened, Hope felt as satisfied as after her normal busy days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 days/30 stories. Did it two years ago, doing it this year. Super short, because I have maybe 60 minutes a day what with everyone at home. I have prompts but I'm skipping them at will (like today). Last time it was all canon characters, but we won't be so lucky this year, I can tell you right now. Drop a suggestion or prompt or favorite tyrant, and see what happens. Or at least wish me luck.
> 
> Btw how do I link to a previous story, about the Job Swap for April Fools? Because it's this https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424301  
> (yes I am a n00b why do you ask)


	2. The Ruler of ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Frye and H.B. are friends. In a parking lot. Surrounded by Prone and humans.
> 
> Indulgent nonsense.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone (D., it was D.) taught me that H.B. and Frye are great and terrible friends, and I have cherished that head canon. It keeps me warm on stormy nights.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Frye Cristoph," the grinning man said, holding out a hand. "And I'm the Ruler of the Repenta parking lot."

"My liege!" shrieked a neighboring drunk. She lurched sideways, while her skirt experienced an unattractive asymmetrical shift in the other direction.

"Hail!" intoned a beefy Prone gravely. The 2 meter alien stood as solidly as the Repenta diner itself.

H.B. ignored the social greeting. He was hard pressed not to face palm with enough force to leave a dent in his forehead. Or deal a clarifying smack to his friend, the wolfish and often inebriated Interceptor. He'd asked a fairly understandable question, and now was forced to sit through a farce.

"I was appointed to this great responsibility by the fact that the Mara bothers are busy this week." Frye nodded toward the usually occupied corner of the asphalt-covered area. "Something something Mediator training, learning how to resist control or something. Or maybe they're just having family time. I get that, needing quality time with your bro, so naturally I was happy to help out."

"And wearing a paper crown is helping how?"

"It's a foil-covered paper Crown of Bestest, thanks. Got it off of a Nopon who went bust trying to sell party favors. She'd gone big on kids' decorations and no one explained that we don't exactly have littlepon. Even if some of us are on the short side." Frye placed an elbow on H.B.'s shoulder and leaned into him. H.B. spun away sharply, and Frye faked an exaggerated stagger. The shrieking drunk cheered, while the Prone rumbled with concern.

"Lovely," sneered H.B. "You now have your own demented Greek chorus. You are making a fool of all BLADE and your division, you realize that."

"Do not insult our King," thundered the Prone. H.B. stared up at him with disbelief.

"Ts ts ts," Frye chided the blue alien, "stay chill, my loyal subject. My reign is fresh, so not all the citizenry are up on it. Let me take a quick walk with him."

"We will follow your code in your absence," the Prone and the drunk managed to yell in a sort of unison. Frye pulled H.B. away from the flicker of neon lights and screech of partying guest. H.B. jogged uncomfortably alongside his friend until they reached an unused strip of pavement. A dead end that hadn't been connected to the rest of the city, it provided a rather nice view of BLADE tower, now lit green with success, to one side. On the other, distant crowds passed under the store awnings of Melville street.

"So, H.B., my man. You had a question?"

"Yes. What are you up to?"

"That wasn't the question. You asked, lemme quote, 'Frye, what on Mira are you wearing on your head?' As if it weren't obvious. A crown, because I am the Ruler of..."

"Never mind," H.B. cut him off. "I had expected to find a sober ... [here, Frye snorted] ... a serious fellow patriot, ready to discuss a concerning situation in Oblivia. I intend to bring Gravdivus to heel. The tyrant has been menacing the temporary station."

"Yeah, I heard that you Pathies were filling that slot this week. I hadn't heard No-neck was being tricky." Frye scratched the edge of his buzz cut, knocking the crown over his scarred eye. "I can't jump out with you, man, not this week."

"Because of your royal duties," H.B. said acidly.

"Not my fault that Prone-BLADE relations have gone to shit for reasons I don't quite understand. Last weekend's normal roughhousing was this close to becoming a riot."

The dapper Pathfinder examined his friend with great skepticism. "Really? No idea? At all? None?"

"I might have been feeding drinks to some of my guys who'd been booted from the Repenta and had a grudge with their Prone bouncer. But I never expected them to go all humans-first on me." Frye straightened the crown just as it attempted to slip over his face entirely. "I blocked enough swings to give the Prone girls a chance to get out of the way, then I kinda split the difference down the middle as to who got punched. That's why the Maras asked me to help." He looked at H.B. as if the rest was obvious.

"I cannot even guess."

"When the Prone heard the Maras were going to be gone for a week, they wanted some kind of neutral observer. Specifically Prince Jiarg. Never gonna happen. So the Maras explained that I was local royalty and would ensure the peace."

"And the crown?"

"So the Prone can spot me. We all look kinda the same to them. Puny, flat-faced, and not blue."

They started walking back to Frye's kingdom. "Sorry about letting you down, man. Lemme hook you up with some of the better Interceptors, ones with real punch. I got a few that owe me a favor, so it'll save you some credits." When they reached the oily edge of the parking lot, Frye grabbed H.B.'s elbow with excitement. "Hey, you ever think of taking a Prone or two with you? I wanna see my subjects get more tightly connected with the defense of this place."

And that, dear readers, is how H.B. ended up the leader of a double-strength team including a small Prone contingent on an outing to fight the largest, trickiest, and most robust enemy in the third continent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: My kid knew EXACTLY what Frye was wearing when I read the first sentence.
> 
> Drop a suggestion and see what happens, I dare you.


	3. What a Hunk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexa meets someone new. It is like a she was hit with lightening because he is something else.
> 
> All the good thing belong to Monolith Soft.

Alexa flew through the door, not banging it shut only because it was designed to slide closed with a subtle whisper. She blasted straight up to her supervisor, Tika, and stopped suddenly, vibrating with unspoken emotion.

"Hello?" Tika asked cautiously.

"I saw Doug. He was with ... he was with ..." Alexa's eyes were wide, smoldering with the unspeakable nature of whatever it was.

"Someone?" Tika offered.

"And how!" Alexa agreed reverently. Her eyelids fluttered closed. "What. A. Hunk."

Tika was stunned. She'd known Alexa since they'd reached Mira, and had never caught a whiff of romance. In fact, she'd heard the occasional remark from her coworker that indicated mushy stuff was somewhat less interesting than used gun in the red-head's world view. But now the chatty young woman had been struck practically mute by an introduction to ... Tika stopped this line of thought and asked the question that should have been her first. "New skell?"

It was like breaking a dam. "OHMYGOD TIKA! You should have seen him. Doug was there, and next to him, just casually standing, there he was. Brand new Mastema, not the old line, but the new one, a White Reaper II. The model that just came out this week, and Doug already has one and oh Dios mío what a hunk! Gnnnnnngghhhh!" The flood had ended and Alexa was back to barely human noises of amazement.

Tika turned back to the workbench where some Orphe female-specific armor awaited the mandatory addition of an built-in bra. Or possibly a sort of camisole might work, Tiki mused to herself. Alexa could simmer on her own without any help.

She was wrong. Alexa had had a revelation, and wasn't done spreading the good news. As soon as she'd taken a few deep, shuddering breaths, she crowded next to Tika, talking excitedly, trying to capture the perfection of her new crush. "You know I like a heavy skell..."

"... and a light and a medium and ...," muttered Tika.

"And how! But heavy ones, you can do all sorts of things, wild things, with them."

"Alexa, do not begin with me."

"The customizations that you can squeeze into those monsters. But this one was special. He was standing there..."

"It. Skells are its."

" **He** ," emphasized Alexa. "When you see him, you'll know that he is everything I'm telling you. Usually, Mastema are a little on the bulky side, sort of slow and just there, ..."

"Every skell is just there."

".. but this one was graceful. Casual."

"Did it nod and say, 'Sup?'"

"He. I didn't stick around. I lit out of there before I made a fool of myself."

"Before?"

"I mean, if I had stayed there a second longer, I would have had my hands all over him, even without asking Doug's permission."

"Consent, Alexa, consent."

"That's why I split! I am not a monster, Tika. I know when I need to cool off."

Tika doubted that. In any case, she had had enough. She scooped up the offending armor and headed for the industrial sewing area. "Don't you have a report on the new plasma rifle to finish?" she called over her shoulder.

Alexa didn't get the hint and followed her. "Rough draft is done, and it's already more detailed that you'd get from anyone else," Alexa said dismissively, and Tika, head bent over a humming needle, silently agreed that the other woman was probably correct. Alexa was unhinged on certain topics, but she was otherwise great at her job. "So I can spare the time to fill you in on every glorious feature. I've never seen a big skell like that have such balance. But also you could just feel the level of recovery and defense just pouring off of him. Usually Doug goes for the 'all bang, no brains' ones..."

"Still talking about skells?" asked Tika.

"Of course. What else? Like, Doug tends to go for a more aggressive build, but this one ... he was just ... everything was ..." Alexa's hands floated in front of her face, fanning her flushed cheeks slightly.

Tika savored the silence while she could. Tika decided that, as soon as Alexa resumed, she would skip the hints and order her to finish that report, and to do so someplace else. But Alexa didn't get a chance to say anything, because her pocket burst into song, buzzing with a poppy ska beat. _"This gigantic robot kills ..."_ Alexa whipped out her comm device, squeaked slightly, then swiped it into life.

"Hey, Doug, what's up?" she said with a calm smile, while simultaneously waving madly at Tika off camera.

Tika stopped sewing and waited patiently. Alexa nodded serenely at the device, her free hand clenching and unclenching the empty air. Tika could hear snippets of Doug's drawling baritone. "... thought you'd want ... tweak the augments ... test run ..."

"Let me check with my boss." Alexa opened her mouth but Tika beat her to it.

"Go. Go. With my blessing." As Alexa sprinted from the hangar, Tika yelled after her, "Just name your firstborn after me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt! How can I be expected to maintain my composure? Channeling Alexa was a) easy, and b) saved us all a lot of embarrassment. (Me, during Ch. 4: "Hello, sailor." A few minutes later, "HELLOOOOOOOO SAILOR!")  
> Thanks to Jax of the Xenomeme geniuses for the appropriate ring tone.  
> Drop a suggestion and save me from myself.


	4. 04 Shallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elma and Lin go on a simple mission with a pair of Pathfinder NPCs of questionable merit.
> 
> All of the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and I will protect Corwin and Bates with my life.

"Hold up," the grizzled Pathfinder said, raising a tanned fist. He stood with his head twisted slightly, an uncertain look on his heavy features.

A few steps away, his young teammate continued to quietly tease the even younger duo they were guiding. Only Elma noticed the veteran's hesitation and moved to stand warily next to him.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"The breeze. Something's off about it."

Elma waited patiently. Corwin's team had suffered terrible losses a month before, and the survivors had reportedly been acting shaky. Pathfinders had to be bold. The best of them flung themselves into the mysteries of Mira without backup. Corwin's team had been the best of the best, but now BLADE was having trouble coaxing them to venture any farther than the outskirts of the city walls. She'd had to pitch this mission as a personal favor, gathering materials in a well-mapped cave only a few kilometers from the East Gate. Her excuse was that Pathfinders might have novel ideas for collection points. Her real reason was testing whether the team was still viable.

"Caves have a way of pulling air through them differently," she offered. She had been there when Corwin had been rescued from a cave in Sylvalum, crawling with small but vicious enemy, the walls stained blue from the casualties his team had suffered. It had taken every bit of encouragement and shaming from Cross and the rest of Elma's team to get Corwin back on his feet that terrible day. Elma had watched for any hesitation at the cave entrance today, but the survivor had gone in with only an acceptable amount of caution.

"The breeze is shifting. In, then out."

"I don't feel it."

"It's slight, but it's there." He swallowed and tightened his jaw. "Bates!" he said in a sharp whisper. A single finger to his lips silenced the other teammate.

"What matter?" burbled Tatsu, but Lin recognized Elma's similar gesture and shushed the oblivious Nopon.

They crunched quietly through the obstacle course of stalagmites and scummy pools. Elma noticed a slight disturbance in the air, teasing the edge of her silver hair. She placed her hand on Lin's shoulder when the girl started to step away from the group.

"But Elma! Look over there. I think it's a ..."

Corwin stepped backwards, directly in front of Lin, his weapon raised. Bates moved next to him to stand shoulder to shoulder. Together, they formed a wall in front of Elma and Lin.

The breeze flowed around them, back and forth, back and forth. Corwin pointed towards a darker area between freshly broken pillars, in the deepest edge of the cave. His eyes flashed a question. Not "do we continue?" Elma had seen this look in her best teams. He wanted to know if she wanted to follow or wait for him to explore first. There was no doubt that he would explore.

She nodded, silently unholstering her twin guns, puny compared to Corwin's oversized weapon, but capable of giving the team precious seconds of escape time if they were surprised. She hesitated to use that skill, however. The situation was novel, but she wasn't convinced that Corwin wasn't overreacting.

Corwin and Bates inched forward, hugging the edges of the rocks while still running defense for the rest of the team. Elma and Lin (and potato sidekick) weren't allowed to so much as move a step before the other two men had gestured for them to join them. As a result, Elma had no clue why Corwin suddenly stopped and swore softly. It was amazement, not fear, that was clear. He didn't have to gesture twice for her to hurry forward.

The draft was distinct now, if still weak, and the air flickered weakly with motes of ether. The cave had opened up dramatically. In a wide patch of soft sand, cleared of rocky croppings, lay the giant body of an elderly Levitath. The flying sky whales lived their whole lives sculling through the skies of Mira, giving birth among the clouds. But clearly they performed one last act on the ground. The creature's curving ribs heaved slowly, and its sail-like fins scratched shallow paths in the sand. With each exhalation, more ether sparkles filled the air, falling softly to become a new layer of sand.

"Gosh, I wish we'd brought a Curator," said Lin. "They'd go nuts to learn about this."

"I don't think anyone needs to learn about this," Corwin said. Elma noticed he was breathing in rhythm with the indigen.

"But think of the resources! I was trying to tell Elma earlier. I saw a whole pile of sparkling blue gems back there. We could grab a bunch and not have to fight anything."

"Not everything has to be brought back to NLA."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reviewed Unknown Assailant quest, and, yeah, Xenoblade X's main story may be shallow, but the side quests are brutal and that's where the game shines. All my love to all NPCs. I was originally going to feature my goof of a Pathfinder Roo, but Corwin works even better.
> 
> Next up: mercy, can we go back to slapping H.B. or wiping drool off Alexa's chin? Because I can't take another story like this.


	5. 05 Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L manages to find the worst day and location for business. Very short.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

L ducked his head as he passed through the arch of the front door of NLA Cathedral. Something about the shifting from outdoor sunshine to dim shafts of colored light made his skin tingle. It felt much like moving under the leaves of Nightglow Forest, minus the hungry indigen. An extra aliveness but also a cooling peace, and a sense that one's presence was not quite accepted. L looked around curiously, casting his eyes to the top of the vaulted ceiling, then down along the rows and rows of stained glass windows. During the night, light poured out of the ranks of windows onto the residential streets. During the daytime, it made sense that the building filled itself with the wondrous blues and reds from the tinted glass that formed the pictures built into the walls.

However, L was not here to sight the sees. He was required to deliver an update to the former owner of his current shop, a dainty young human named Regina. A queen among humans, and one to whom he was deeply grateful for the opportunity to run such a promising enterprise in NLA. L looked along the pews before spotting her silver blond head, bent to study her folded hands.

L slid onto the wooden bench and waited for her to respond. His expression of delight at having discovered her increased when she jumped slightly upon noticing him. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a fierce whisper.

"You haven't been coming to our humble establishment so the establishment has come to you," he said in a jolly voice.

"Shhh. You don't do business in here." L admired how quietly she could speak while still making every sound sharp as a snapped twig. "Not here. Not today."

"The 5th?" L inquired. He was excited to learn of a new holiday, even if it might be one of those the humans preferred not to do business on.

Regina's shoulders slumped. The crackle of her voice had changed to the slip of leaves underfoot. "Of April. We were trying for that date. For our wedding. It didn't happen." She examined her hands again, although she no longer held them so neatly composed.

"We have yet to see a human wedding, although we have danced at several Prone ones." He craned his eyes to the front of the church and changed the topic. Gesturing to the window over the ceremonial area, he noted, "The major wheel is quite beautiful, is it not? We admire how the spokes branch in order to hold more light, and how the whole of it makes us feel like we are underwater. We didn't think there was so much pure blue anywhere else in NLA, ourselves excepted."

Regina looked up and followed his gaze. "It's called a rose window."

"Now we wish for a flower that is spoked and speckled like this. We must find an example of such a blue rose for our store."

Regina shook her head. "You won't find one. Roses are red, not blue," she corrected him. She straightened and said primly, "Finding a blue rose is a standard quest from fairy tales, chosen precisely because it is impossible. If you look for it, you're certain to fail."

"Then we shall enjoy the search, however long it lasts, and in failing we will succeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owl City "Fireflies" on loop because I like the dreamy weirdness of it. Written on a quiet Palm Sunday
> 
> Next up: MONDAY oh dear. We got this, kids.


	6. 06 Of Mice and Ma-non

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A famous human play is performed by the xenos, to a human audience. The results are ... something.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft and/or John Steinbeck. Steal from the best, okay?

The evening was part of the on-going Ma-non attempts to better understand their human hosts. The small greyish aliens weren't just voracious for snack food in the form of perfectly oozing cheesy disks of glory. They were also terribly fond of cultural performances and values. Less so dance, since their forms weren't a good match for human movement, or for music, since their hearing range was realms beyond those of any other species on the planet. No, those were of less interest to them, but they did love a good story, especially one that came with costumes and drama. Thus, the Ma-non Subscription Series of Great Human Theater was founded.

So far, the troupe had worked their way through the fluffier bits of Shakespeare, which gained a very large Prone following, and then the bloodier bits, which had intrigued the Wrothians. They developed a version of shadow puppetry in tribute to Indonesian wayang kulit, although several figures resembled the mechs and the indigen of Mira and the lighting was a tad more dynamic than the original inspiration. They dabbled in Noh drama (a bit too detailed even for their genius brains) and Dadaist nonsense (L was enchanted). With every announcement of their next production, tickets would sell out quickly.

However, there had been hints of problems with tonight's performance. The original director had quit suddenly, and was sitting prominently front row center. May May refused to say what had driven her from the job, but the tip of her extended and gentle nose was pinched tight, and she managed to glower from behind her stylish pink goggles.

Lin kept sneaking glances at the simmering ex-director, but she didn't risk asking. She was on her best behavior, wearing a formal uniform with gloves and tights and everything. She had been invited to the performance by none other than Secretary Nagi. Usually, she was the first to tease him; in fact, she felt it was almost her duty to try to loosen him up. But he had spoken so gravely about today's performance that she didn't want to make it anything less than special and important for him.

"Mr. Steinbeck's prose is astonishingly beautiful. He writes with naturalism and simplicity, and yet it flows like poetry. This piece is especially striking, full of hope and striving." He had warned her that the ending was tragic, but assured her that it would be too easy to describe it as despairing.

"It's kind of old, though, right?" Lin had asked.

"You will find that the characters are still current, and treated with respect, both the weak and the strong," he'd replied.

A sudden opportunity to chat with respected Wrothian guests distracted him. Lin leaned over to sneak some gossip with May May. "So... do you think this will be as good as last month's play?"

"No. It will be quite much worse," snapped May May.

"Wow. That bad?"

"They've given the direction to to to an Orphe. What, I ask you, do those number munchers know about emotion? Very little, that's what."

"I'm sure it will be interesting," offered Lin.

"It will be a disaster," predicted May May, "and I hope it it it is wonderful, understand?"

There was no time to get the full dirt, because the lights dimmed to a mere sparkling dust and the curtains raised on a sketch of a natural scene. The Oblivia rings shimmered in the background. There was a slight ripple of excitement when the first actors entered: a wrinkled Ma-non and a hulking Prone, both dressed in the cheap BLADE coveralls usually handed to raw recruits. The two aliens argued and plotted, clearly a sort of found family. The next scene was set indoors in a stark room. It looked very much like a temporary field station, with cots haphazardly arranged on a rough wooden floor. No one was surprised to see a variety of xenos as well as a human filling the roles. There was even a boasting but weak Nopon and his beautifully fluffy bride.

Lin enjoyed the play, although she felt a creeping dread as the Prone, "Lennie", again and again failed to control his strength, and as the Ma-non, "George", was tempted by the opportunity to be free of his Prone hindrance. When "Lennie" and the pretty Nopon found themselves alone at the field station, Lin was frankly terrified. As the brutish actor stroked the delicately trembling pink tuft of the actress with his heavy blue hands, Lin could barely keep herself from covering her eyes. But she knew she needed to see what was coming.

The Prone grabbed the fuzzy Nopon, sweeping her from the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling the fluffy tuft. The actress gave a protesting "meh meh" and then, finally, it happened.

"Lennie not hurt fluffiest of Nopon!," bellowed the Prone. "I will protect the fluffy, George! We will have our land and protect all the fluffies!" He still held the little pink furball, but with great gentleness. To Lin's amazement, the Prone burst into sobs, tears pouring from all six of his eyes.

An insectoid voice hissed from the wings, "You are deviating 78.6% from the script!"

The audience was in tumult. Several voices argued as to the effectiveness of this interpretation. It wasn't clear if this was a failure of the script or reinterpretive genius.

An Orphe, clipboard in one claw and a beret perched unstably between his feelers, snuck onto stage, but could not convince the Prone to release his treasure. The young actress loudly protested the man-handling (or would it be Prone-handling) from her perch of safety. "Dumb blue alien getting hair tuft all damp and less than optimally fluffy!" Finally, "George" returned to the stage, gently assuring "Lennie" that he believed his friend and would stick with him forever. "Remember? With us it ain't like that. We got a future, understand? Because..."

The Prone recited happily, from the depths of his alien heart, "Because ... because I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you, and that's why." He laughed happily, set the Nopon gently on the ground, and took an appendage in each hand, a Nopon wingarm on the right and a slim Ma-non hand in the other. Together, the threesome exited, stage left, as the Orphe slunk back behind the curtains.

The audience gave it a standing ovation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 months ago, I joked about this with the Xenomeme geniuses. Tonight, it became a reality. Never let your dreams die, kids. Reviews of Steinbeck given by my kids, although I made it sound more like Nagi. "Of Mice and Men" is an amazing piece of work and well worth a read/viewing, either as novella or play.
> 
> If someone teaches me how to add a picture, I have a visual for this....
> 
> Next up: really, I do not care if I do another story, maybe ever. I am content.


	7. 07 Strapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yelv needs some quick credits. Who else to ask but Doug "Never Met a Credit He Didn't Like" Barrett?
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

"So, let me get this straight," Doug rumbled at the scruffy man propping up the other alley wall. "You need credits and you want me to help you out. I didn't think Reclaimers were branching out into panhandling." Doug had ducked into the nearby alley to catch his breath and maybe catch a nap after a very successful bachelor party for a friend of a friend. Never go drinking with Interceptors, he reminded himself a few hours too late. He had not expected to face a shakedown by the human equivalent of an excited Labrador retriever.

"You don't have to give me a dime, pard, but everyone says you're always on the lookout for a nice fast credit. Hook me up with something and I'll do it myself."

Doug indeed had a few ideas, but he generally didn't share unless it was his own team, or his own division, or he was desperate for help. He looked at the tattooed man, noted his mismatched gear, and didn't feel terribly eager to take a risk on this casual. The wall lurched slightly against Doug's back, or maybe the ground slid at a new angle, and Doug reconsidered his pickiness. He wasn't in any shape to run a quick mission on his own, but maybe something easy and time sensitive might help clear his head and line his wallet.

"You got anti-thermal gear?"

"Uh, maybe? I'm not sure all the stuff that I drag home. I sell most of it soon as I can get to the alley. It all looks the same to me."

"I lend you gear and we split it 60-40 in my favor. Okay?"

"All right! Let's jump!"

Doug had Yelv pilot the skell while he rested his eyes for a bit. He managed to tune out the chatter. He'd surfaced a few times to hear Yelv trying to explain why he was strapped for cash, but had slipped back into a snooze as the man went round in circles about Nopon and Valentine's candy and installment plans. However, he was feeling recharged by the time they touched down in a small clearing that formed an intersection between lava pools. The slap of heat made Doug's eyes sting when the skell opened up and spat them onto the black grainy ground. On the horizon, an indigen the size of the Repenta Diner spouted molten rock from its forehead.

Yelv was twisting his beach blonde head in five directions at once. "Whoa Nelly. You think if maybe we can grab one of those big fish we can call it a night right away?"

"No. We're gunning for those." Doug pointed at a pair of airborne metallic jellyfish, neither much larger than a standard helmet.

"Cool, dude. Pew pew, down they go. Then what?"

"Then we wade in and get their friends."

"In the lava?! Pard, I am not melting my knees to clear my credit record!"

"Trust the gear, _pard_. You could dead-man's float in these pools and come out just fine."

"Okay, if you say so, but if my bits get crispy, I'll want a bigger share."

"Sure. Does 65-35 sound better?"

"Yeah, sounds great! Let's go get 'em."

Yelv became one of Doug's more favorite pick-up teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Super short because I kinda forgot all about it. Reel Big Fish helping me out.
> 
> Yelv went into debt in "Simple Gifts". You're all lucky that I didn't start exploring the loss of good friends etc.


	8. 08 Husbands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family drama crosses the species barrier. Two humans give a Prone advice.
> 
> Based on a blue speech bubble in NLA, which could have made me laugh but ended up not.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but I had to think up names.

"You are so stubborn!" But there was no reply. He had already deactivated his device on his end. Javina closed the scrap of metal in her hand and glared at the two aliens that had been gawking at her from a distance with their simple wet eyes. They had been enjoying the little one-sided drama, she just knew it. They were sure to gossip about it with their friends in days to come. "Oh, those Prone, so brutish. Always shouting. Such hot heads." They were free to use her agitation against her clan, but her clan's honor couldn't be tarnished by unkind words. Usually Javina would have proudly stared them down before walking away. But today she had already had too many angry words and too much hopeless defeat. She couldn't keep herself from starting one more fight.

"What do you think you stare at?" she demanded.

Their fuzzy heads swiveled away from her as they consulted wordlessly with each other. The one with shorter fuzz spoke, and her words were hesitant, "Well, we couldn't help but notice that you were ... distressed."

"I am fine," Javina said with a toss of her head, daring them to think otherwise.

The one with longer strands falling from her skull made a noise like a tiny juvenile suid. "We know exactly what ' _fine_ ' means. Anything but, right?" The alien patted the gap between them. "Have a seat and spill it. You'll feel better."

"I am not tired and do not need to sit. And I have nothing to pour." She traced the heavy gold band along her collar bones with an uncertain finger.

"She means, if you feel like sharing your story with, admittedly, two complete strangers, you might find more perspective. Who knows? We might even be able to give you some advice."

"Ha! What do humans know of our lives? You do not live as a clan. You like this city built of metal and false stone. You can offer me nothing."

The humans once again shared silent communication, and the gentle one spoke again. "You may be a Prone, but dealing with a stubborn husband is hardly an alien concept to us humans. We feel your pain, dear."

"Do you? Do you?! I wish to serve the clan, to build it as only one such as myself can, and my husband tells me, over and over, we must wait. We must be happy with so much less. We have been stripped of everything and ..." Javina stopped herself, covering her mouth with her hands. She wanted to cover her minor eyes with her side tentacles like a child. She knew the humans had also lost as much the Tree Prone, more perhaps. Tormain was lost to her clan, but it still floated somewhere in the sky. They were scattered, but they might rejoin others of their people. None of this was left to the Earthians. "I am sorry."

It was the suid one that spoke, with the hint of a laugh in her voice. "Oh, honey, we've all been through it, and it's always just the pits. He doesn't trust you, right? Or maybe he's scared that you'll get hurt by whatever you were arguing about?"

"He doesn't trust that good times will last."

The alien women nodded their not-unpleasantly tufted heads. "You've seen a lot of change, and upsets. Have you been married long?"

"We chose each other while we were still enslaved. It was only when we reached the safety of the Ma-non ship that we could live as a couple. I thought it meant that he thought as I did, but now he hesitates."

"And you want to ..." They stopped suddenly and their eyes grew even paler. Javina whirled around.

"What do you want?" Javina snarled at the 8 foot figure who had crept all too quietly upon her.

"Not I. The babe." He passed a bundle, squeaking with infant rage, over to Javina. Javina loosened a few ties of the covers and fanned an overheated neck, before stroking the wispy tendrils that fluttered around the now peaceful baby's face. "You see? I cannot be left with her. You cannot expect me to do this alone. And I will not risk another child. Imagine how much they would suffer if you were lost to us."

"A child unborn feels no joy either. She is here, and so am I, and tomorrow will have to fight us both to stop that. Better if there were three fighting. Better if there were four." She glared at her mate, all six eyes daring him to argue. "Leave me alone with my counselors."

He shuffled off, because thick as he was, she had to admit he was not one to force failure. It was just that he would not risk success either.

She turned back to the humans. To her surprise, they had scooted tightly close to each other. The gentle one had her arm around the other's shoulders, whispering into her ear. The peppery one was wiping her face over and over.

"Do not be alarmed. My mate is as powerful as fire but gentle as sleep." Javina smiled to herself. The argument would not mean anything to her if she didn't love him so much. Maybe she would wait a little longer. It would not be the worst thing to enjoy her first born for a few months before making a sibling for her.

The gentle human looked at Javina and her eyelids fluttered wildly. "Is that your baby, dear?"

Before Javina could answer, the peppery one reached her arms out slightly. "May I ... may I hold her a moment?"

Javina was proud to let this human hold her daughter, patiently explaining how to place her hand along the little one's spine and avoid the greedy tentacles that would yank the fibres from the human's head. The woman surprised her, quick to follow her instructions, and more certain than Javina's husband had been and still sometimes was. She hummed a short bit of soothing music that Javina did not recognize but instinctively wished to learn. Then the human sighed deeply and offered the baby back to Javina. "Thank you, dear." She rubbed her face, over and over.

The gentle human patted her friend's shoulders again. "You may have noticed that we don't have children in our city," she said softly. The peppery one rubbed her face harder. "I understand your husband's fears, I really do, but ..."

"I won't tell you he's wrong," the peppery one stated suddenly. She'd lifted her gaze to the sunlight breaking through the clouds. "Because he's not. When it goes wrong, it will break your heart, his too."

"If it goes wrong," said the gentle one.

"If. Yes. If. Because I will fight beside you if you need a fifth. And she'll be the sixth, right?"

"Absolutely," swore the gentle one.

The peppery one snorted, this time like a suid that had been ridden through a river. "What's her name?"

"Mira."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt given by Coto and I had to go there, sorry.
> 
> next up: Double dog dare you to pitch me something. Otherwise, "got shelved"?


	9. 09 Shelved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug and a Cross run a mission in Noctilum, beating up turtles.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and I have no opinion which Cross this is.

Cross swerved quickly at the edge of the ruddy lagoon, and bounced over the curve of a broad and shining leaf. There was the sound of a splash directly behind her. "Mother of - - -!" Doug clearly was stiffling something unsuited for tender ears.

"Mind the acid pool," Cross said, belatedly.

A minute later, Doug called out. "We gotta take a break."

"Problems?"

"I got gunk in my boots and I can feel it eating away at my socks."

Cross stopped a moment later in a small clearing. After checking that the rocks were indeed only rocks and the flowers were indeed only flowers, Doug sat down in the dim sunshine. He checked his weapons first, then unclipped his boots and poured a quantity of dark liquid onto the turf. The puddle steamed slightly, and the grass along the edges bleached to a pale halo of bone. "Damn. These socks are toast." Doug tossed two squishy globs of former hosiery into the ferns that surrounded the clearing.

Cross hadn't settled down, instead keeping watch so that no enemy surprised them. "Can you continue?"

"Sure. We may have to stop more frequently to deal with hot spots but I can manage."

"Hot spots?"

"Blisters."

Cross grunted, then gestured for Doug to get up. Doug sighed and rose reluctantly. "You really want to get this thing done, don't ya?"

Cross nodded and set off running north. Their goal was the land bridge between the two halves of the second continent. Doug kept up, but with less ease than the other soldier. Being built more along the measures of a large truck, he couldn't weave through the flora as easily as Cross could. But he kept most of his grumbles to himself, knowing that whining did little to improve a mission in progress. It wasn't like there was a path that wasn't choked with greenery through this jungle. At least the Elephant's Neck, the location for the mission, was relatively clear of vegetation.

The reached it without any other complications. Cross nodded to Doug, who unhooked the prototype beam sabre from his back and readied himself. They were there on an Outfitter's mission, testing a new type of melee weapon against a specific set of indigen. One of them (Doug) would whack the target with the new prototype, while the other (Cross) would hang back, recording and stepping in if things went nasty. Hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. This particular subspecies, even the tyrant, was slow and low leveled. Doug looked around, trying to figure which mound of leafy dross would rise up from the ground and try to kill them. He missed it, as usual. He never claimed to be the best at spotting hidden enemy. He had always been more in favor of beating whatever showed its head and asking a Pathfinder to note it down later. He looked at Cross, trying to think of other things.

Cross hadn't been fooled. They were positioned exactly to the other side of the tectinsula behemoth. Doug could just see the edge of their shadow under the massive shell and stocky legs of the vicious murder turtle. Doug lit up the sword and waited for the command.

"Go!"

He hadn't liked the weapon in the Outfitter's Hangar, and he didn't like it any more in the field. The flanges around the handle kept catching on his armor. Maybe if he'd been wearing something a little less bulky it wouldn't have been as much of a problem, but Doug was glad he'd insisted on his standard gear when the monster belched out a stream of acid that could have knocked a lighter opponent flying. As it was, Doug was just fine with the extra weight, even as he flipped to the highest possible advantage to take out the beast's floral antennae. After that, he settled on some lower swings, taking out one knee, then another. The sword had decent recharge, he had to grant it that. More than decent. He was able to pile on some meaty hits, enough that the tyrant staggered and fell without Doug needing to switch over to a ranged weapon for a breather.

As the shelled enemy crumpled to the ground, Cross ran around the combat area, a big smile plastered on their face. "The recording went perfectly. Four more like it and we can head home."

"Great," Doug replied. Then he winced. "Look at this." His right glove was blistered and cracking. "First my boots, now my gloves."

"What happened?"

"Looks like something tried to melt it."

"Alfombra doesn't have a thermal attack."

"I know. Could the sword have overheated?"

Cross checked the recording, Doug looking over their shoulder. "Here. Temperature blip 5 seconds before the end."

"Too bad. They're gonna have to shelve this baby if it keeps doing that. A longer fight could have caused plenty trouble."

"The other ones along this path aren't tyrants. Do you want to go on?"

"Sure. I think my gloves will hold out for at least one more round."

Cross darted into the remnants of the enemy and yanked out a pair of square toed boots. "At least you can make your feet more comfy. There might be some fresh socks inside that you can use."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea if Alfombra, the Transcendent, dropped leg gear, but YES! it does. So, there. The Cross here could be either of mine; Roo is a dork but nimble, while Case is efficient. Several others I've met could work just as well.
> 
> Next up: Friday! Whoooo! "I want a new phone." Or, you know, drop me a prompt and see what happens.


	10. 10 I Want a New Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug, Irina, and the Christophs on a mission that could have gone very bad. Don't worry: only Irina's phone was destroyed.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Wouldn't you like a port right now?

Four soldiers, lying flat in a shallow depression in the sand, shaded by an uneven slab of red stone that hid them from view. Three voices, low enough that the mechanized figures a few meters away wouldn't hear them over the screaming of the sandstorm.

"When this is all over, I'm going to want a new phone." A sly voice and silvery eyes, kept wide in spite of the stinging sand.

"Duh, you're gonna need it, if this works." Broader and louder, belonging to a figure too comfortable with the team's awkward position, or maybe too familiar with being sprawled on the ground in unfortunate situations. He rubbed his face slowly, almost relishing the grit that rolled across his scar.

"When it works." Deepest and quietest, eyes squinting hard at a phone he'd pitched almost to the center of the enemy patrol path. The puge had walked past it twice on their rotation, so he was starting to think that maybe the plan would work.

The fourth soldier, lying almost shoulder to shoulder with the second speaker, kept his thoughts to himself, his finger on the detonator he'd cobbled together from materials pulled from their med kit, Frye's extensive weapons cleaning kit (because Gatling guns have so very many moving parts that do not like sand) and the young man's own pockets. He had always felt that the small knob of explosives, stable on its own, would some day come in handy, and today was proving him right.

"And you're paying for it." Irina wasn't done lamenting her comm device, a crucial ingredient in Phog's trap.

"BLADE will pick up the cost," Doug assured her distractedly.

"I'm not filling out paperwork and waiting for it to get denied. You do it."

"Okay, fine I'll get you one. But let's get home first."

"You better remember, buster."

For some reason, Frye found this hilarious. "Pffft, 'buster'. She called you 'buster'."

"Pipe down, Frye, okay?"

"Sure thing, skipper."

"I mean it. We want them to target Irina's phone, not your smart mouth."

That was the whole of the plan: use a phone to distract the enemy to the wrong location. An hour before, they'd walked into an unexpected nest of Puge enemy. If it had been expected, Doug's team would have blown them to small silvery bits. But they'd been distracted, focused more on Phog's intent hunt for a particularly promising indication of miranium just around the blind corner. The gods had smiled on the four humans. The contingent of Puge had been facing the other way, and Frye had done his division proud by yanking both Irina and Phog into cover. Doug had slid in after them a microsecond before the enemy patrol had resumed its regular pass.

They really only expected a moment of relief before launching into a fire fight, maybe a chance to pick off a straggler or five to even the odds to something closer to survivable. Luck hadn't finished with them, though. A sand storm had whistled through the canyon before the first Puge had come within sensing distance. They were safe, at least until the weather cleared, or until a Puge literally stumbled over them.

The problem was the storm was blocking any calls for backup. So there they were, snug and safe, but only for as long as the weather lasted. Frye wanted to rush them, pick off as many as they could in the confusion, and make a run for it. Irina wanted no running, all fighting. Doug listened to their back and forth, mixed with the pauses to spit out errant sand. He wasn't sure they'd be able to run very far, at least not enough to get clear, since the Puge generally had quick moving transports available. However, they were out numbered in a way that made fighting seem suicidal. "We gotta give ourselves an advantage," Doug mused. "Any way we can pull a handful of them closer, so we can deal with those before the others find us?"

"We could rig a bomb."

Doug chuckled kindly. "Great idea, Phog, but one thing you forgot: no bomb."

"I can make one."

There was a momentary silence (if you don't count the screaming sandstorm). Doug and Irina inched away from the quiet young man, while Frye grinned at his brother with pride. "Go bro! What d'ya need?"

"Can I borrow a comm device?"

They'd settled on Irina's, since it was the nicest one they had. "Better range," Phog said simply. He'd puttered with Frye's assistance, while Doug sweated out the passing seconds against the length of the storm, and Irina fumed about the impending death of her phone. After he'd attached the unexpected explosives to it, and changed its signal frequencies, he'd handed to Doug. Doug had timed it carefully, crawling out from under the hiding place to lob the phone into the path of the enemy patrol at the point when the Puge were farthest away, ready to begin their return sweep.

Then they waited. Two circuits had passed without event. During the turn into the third sweep Frye lifted his head. "Storm's about to end."

"And you know this because..." Irina asked suspiciously.

"I've been put on enough 'corrective' duty out here to know how the wind blows."

"That I can believe," she said.

"Set the signal," ordered Doug.

Phog dialed Irina's comm device. The normal ring tone was barely audible under the heavy sighing of the wind, but that wasn't the point. According to Phog, the phone was also sending out frequencies that would ring in the Puges' heads like church bells. They waited to see if he was right.

To everyone's relief and the slight surprise of the non-Chirstoph family members, the previously slow patrol came running toward the location of the device, with another three Puge following. The explosion went off perfectly, just as a Puge was reaching down for the suspicious piece of technology. The human team all had their heads down, protected from the explosion. The Puge were not so lucky. When the dust settled, the sand storm conveniently dropped to nothing. The troop of remaining Puge, running to see what had become of their fellow robots, found only wreckage and three very vicious BLADEs (plus a retiring but nonetheless stubborn Prospector) ready and waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doug owes Irina a really nice phone now. One of Frye punishment duty tours in Oblivia showed up in Apriltober 2018 # 22 over on fanfiction dot net, with sandstorm and H.B. 
> 
> Next up: no idea. Honest, send me a prompt and I'll see what I can do. Mind you, I had no idea an hour ago, so I can make my own fun.


	11. 11 Hustle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two BLADEs disagree gently about a third member. Tobias: greasy greedhead or all around nice guy? Discuss.
> 
> Super short and I have no energy to edit. Enjoy the typos!
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

The older man, scratching his close cropped salt and pepper hair, leaned heavily on the bar. Beside him a young soldier hung on to every word. This didn't please the veteran in the slightest, but what could you do? Youngins sometimes needed role models, and the kid had chosen him.

"Look, kid, I admire your drive, really I do, but you gotta choose your friends better." Starting with himself, but he left that out.

"Gosh, chief, I think I have a good eye for quality. Yourself, obviously, and the cutie I see every morning, always with a wink and a nod."

"The cutie got a name?" he asked with sudden suspicion. God help him if he had to do even more to protect this sweet innocent.

"ME! I mean me, silly! I always give myself a big smile when I brush my teeth. It's always great to start the day with some chipper self-talk, even if it leaves toothpaste specks on the mirror. No one believes in you like yourself!"

He didn't even know where to begin with that falsehood. He may have known himself better than anyone else, even if he couldn't remember a minute of his past, but that wasn't the same as believing in himself. He sighed and signaled for another drink.

"So, you know I've got a good track record. And I've got a really good feeling about him."

"So, about Travis ..."

"Tobias," she corrected gently.

"He's a greasy hustler."

"It's called a pompadour. It's coming back into style."

"It's called finding an easy mark and making them do all the work."

"I can work hard! BLADEs have to work hard," she said earnestly.

"He's putting the danger on your head and keeping his greasy pompadour safe. He's no good and you need to steer clear from him." All those words had left him thirsty. He grabbed the newly arrived beer and sunk his nose deep into it.

"You're so sweet to worry. But I know a good guy when I see one."

The hell of it was that she thought he was a good guy, so he just knew he'd have to be Tobias' best friend, sooner or later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be Mia and an unnamed Cross, possibly my boy Roo on a very bad day. Super short because I did the hourly-much-more-than-an-hour challenge today, Hourly Challenge: Exploration, full of H.B. and Frye and Veena the OC, so I didn't have much energy left. (So help me someday I will learn to link stories and then you'll be sorry.)
> 
> Next up: drop a suggestion, I beg of you.


	12. 12 He hated quotes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug and Celica have an unwritten heart-to-heart about repairs and loss.
> 
> Probably after Ch. 12, spoilers to Ch. 5.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

He hated quotes. Doug tried not to growl too angrily at the technician when he grabbed the pen and signed there, there, and there. It was nothing new, but it always twisted his gut. Whenever he brought his skell in to be fixed, or upgraded, or even just dusted at the official hangar, he accepted that the quote they gave him at the drop-off would be wrong by a factor of at least 30%, and never in his favor. If he planned for that 30%, it would bloom to 50% extra, maybe even double the initial quote. "We caught something in the nick of time, and we can't really let you go out with it like this," said with a smug grin, and he'd have to act grateful that his paycheck for the next week was sliding directly into their pockets.

He could let BLADE take care of it, of course, but that would mean the skell was no longer his. He'd have to take whatever ride the pool had on offer, and someone else would snatch the repaired skell and use it until they burned out the weaponry sweeping up low level forfexes on a beach that he could walk to in under an hour without breaking a sweat. It wasn't so much that he'd be stuck with whatever mixed junk they gave him. It was the thought of the effort he'd already put into his baby going to waste like that.

He shook himself. If he started calling the bucket of bolts "baby", he might as well get a "Team Skell Yes" jacket so he'd match Lin and Alexa. Skells were tools, weapons, and transportation, and needed maintenance but not adoration. They'd saved his skin, they'd saved his team's skin, they'd protected his city, they had almost been enough to ... Okay, fine, skells deserved respect, and he needed to get over himself about the cost of upkeep.

The stew of thoughts was probably why he almost tripped over Celica as he walked away from the hangar. "You okay there?" he asked as he checked that he hadn't actually stepped on her. He also checked that her massive friend and pseudo-bodyguard Rock hadn't seen him almost squash the delicate alien. Lucky for him the mountainous and protective creature was nowhere to be seen.

Celica stood up from where she had been sitting, dusted her skirts, and smiled. It was a poor attempt, not enough to fool even the dimmest of Reclaimers. The corners of her mouth twitched and her hair didn't do enough to cover the tears simmering in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you need a bandage or an ice pack or something?"

"No, thank you. Truly, I am quite unhurt, Douglas."

"I'm not calling you a liar or anything, but you look a little ... off?"

"Oh, Douglas, I heard the worst news this morning!"

"Join the club. My skell's going to cost me a bundle."

"No, it's ... a friend ... I heard she was hurt in a Ganglion ambush."

"Ugh." He nodded with sympathy. "Do you want me to walk you to the Mim Center?"

"It's not like that. She's Wrothian."

"Oh."

"And before you say anything, I'm not sure that she'll be okay. It wasn't that kind of hurt." She shrugged her shoulders, then stood with her shoulders straight. "I wanted to compose myself before Rock saw me. I thought I was almost ready, but it appears I need to wait a little longer to let it sink in." Her voice wobbled as hard as the corners of her mouth.

Doug nodded. "Sorry about the crack about the skell. This is a different kind of thing. I've been there."

"Excuse me if I point out that you are in a different situation. Your real bodies are stored elsewhere. Your redemption will happen, even if you have to go without a friend for the time being."

Doug gave an uncomfortable nod, ducking the tricky subject. Then he looked kindly down at the young woman. "I was a soldier on Earth, and back there it wasn't different. I know what it's like to lose friends."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't consider..."

"Don't worry. It sucks ... uh, it's rotten to the core, and you take all the time you need. It always snuck up on me when I thought I was settled with it."

"Thank you, Douglas."

"If you ever need to talk, you got my number. Hey, can I buy you a hot chocolate? It doesn't help the real problem, but it doesn't hurt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea, but have this snippet. I recruited Celica so late that she isn't really big in my brain, but I can understand all the attention she gets. Delicate and certain and so young.
> 
> Yes, this is a bit like the "husband" story. It seems this is a thought I am working on over and over.
> 
> The Last Ship by Sting on repeat, because it's Easter.
> 
> Next up: MONDAY! We will have reached MONDAY! Go team, and drop an suggestion/prompt/dare and see what happens.


	13. 13 Please pass the ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short and inaccurate story of how the final battle could have happened. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Spoilers? to the final battle, enemies, allies, and other spoilery stuff, I guess?
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

"It was so cool! You should have seen it!" Lin chattered as she helped herself to more leftovers. No one, not even the hungriest of Interceptors in the form of Gwin and Irina, worried about the pile she was adding to her plate. There was a ton of food left over from all the stress cooking she'd done during the run up to the final battle. Now the day had been won, and everyone wanted to celebrate. They'd emptied the refrigerator, ordered a few pizzas to round things out, and were all plowing through the mass of food.

All the same, Doug moved the chicken pot pie slightly away from her. It was Lao's favorite, and Doug was going to sneak a plate into the brig if it was the last thing he did. However, he was foiled when a pair of broad hands took it from him with a pleased, "Thanks." Doug watched as his prize was decimated by Commander Vandham.

As he scooped pot pie onto his plate, the Commander rumbled, "Whatever happened is second on my to-do list. I'm gonna look at the video y'all brought back, but after some food. I swear I could eat a horse."

"Linly could make anything tasty!" chimed in Tatsu.

Lin laughed. "Please, Tater, don't make it that easy." She leaned over the table to plunk a bbq chicken leg onto Cross' plate. "Here. Something for the hero of the day. I won't spoil the surprise, Commander, but it was a genius move, that's all I'm gonna say."

"Oh please," the target of Lin's praise mumbled around a mouthful of candied yams. "It's a really common chemical compound."

"Yeah, but what made you think to use it?" Lin's smile was bright, remembering the utter and brutal effectiveness of Cross' surprise attack.

"I spent some time with Hope the other day, helping with the flowers around the church. She was explaining about natural pest control, and I was joking that we'd need a lot more of it if we had to deal with typical Miran pests. Massive quantities of it. Rigging my skell to spray it out was simple."

"Yeah, but how'd you know to bring it along?"

"That was thanks to Elma."

"You never told me anything," whined Lin, her face temporarily bitter with complaint. Then she took a big bite of curry, spoiling the effect.

Elma set down the small cup of broth she had been sipping. "I believe I shared the reconnaissance photos with everyone here last month. The Wrothians were very forthcoming about their interactions with the Ganglion, including their meetings with Luxaar."

"Yes, but who would have expected to face the big wig himself? I didn't. That's why it's so genius that Cross was prepared."

"It was nothing," they repeated.

Vandham pushed away a polished empty plate. "Okay, you're killing me," he huffed. "Screw waiting to see the video. What exactly did you do to slug man?"

"They sprayed him, absolutely blasted him, with ..." Lin began.

"Hush. Let it be a surprise," Cross stopped them. "Hey, Doug, please pass the salt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I have no idea. The prompt is, "Please pass the..."  
> Eldest: SALT.  
> Me: [2 minutes of immediate and complete hysterics]
> 
> This! This is what happens when people don't give me suggestions. Cuphead OST in the background.
> 
> Next up: "Blank page." Uh huh. Please, save me.


	14. 14 Blank Page (Team Tobias 14-18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias and Veven and Graham, oh my. And an unnamed Nopon. Chiselling NPCs working the edges of NLA. This story continues for 5 chapters, 14-18.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and Graham's arc is worth all your attention.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

Graham shrunk back from the furious Pathfinder. "What? What do you mean?"

"This!" The scroll that Graham had just handed over flapped in the angry man's hands.

"It's the map you asked for. I don't understand, man."

"IT'S BLANK! See for yourself." The scroll went from flapping to smacking Graham in the face. While Graham scrambled to pick it up from the tarmac, Tobias started to pace furiously back and forth. "If you think for a minute, A MINUTE, that your friendship with that gilled freak Prof. B is gonna help you out of this..."

"I swear it was what you wanted, honest!" Graham was on his knees, peering into a parchment that was indeed innocent of any mark. He rolled it to its extremes, flipped it over, returned to the "front", and rubbed it nervously with his thumb. His eyes skittered up at the fuming BLADE. "It's the goods that the Nopon trader gave me."

"Nuts. You're a boob."

"I saw it," swore Graham. "I saw the map, with details and coordinates and everything. I made sure he showed me, just like you said, before I handed over the credit key."

"And he still managed to cheat you. I'm gonna take it out on you so bad, you won't even believe it. I don't give up my money that easy."

Something in Graham clicked, and he stood up to face the other man. "Then I should tell you to get in line," he said with vague calm. This wasn't the first time that monetary loss was an essential threat, and it probably wouldn't be the last. "Take a number, wait your turn, hope you have something to read. I am so deep in the hole that if I miss a payment, they're gonna skin me for parts to make more field medi-kits."

Tobias glared at him. "Do you at least remember anything from the map?"

"Why? It's probably faked."

"Nopon are dumb enough to build their schemes on real facts. I've gotten one over on them more than once that way."

Graham stared into space, then shook his bald head. "Oblivia. It was in Oblivia, near Lake Basel. North east maybe?"

"Helpful. NOT."

A very small cough sounded at about knee level. The two humans stared down at a goggled Ma-non technician. "If I may offer a suggestion?"

"Beat it, squeakie," Tobias snarled.

"Mim eyes record electronically, right? So maybe I can find a trace in in in Graham's eyeballs, okay?"

"Excellent. Let me get a spoon and pop them out."

"NOOO!"

"No no no, that won't be necessary! We could probably use my goggles to do the same thing, unless that's what you want, okay?"

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Blank page." Really. Really?! What. a. Sucky. Prompt. But I'm two drinks in so let's roll.
> 
> a/n: please, I beg of you, help a woman out. I may have an idea for tomorrow, but there is a bad dry spell after that.


	15. 15 Tobias & Co. cont.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias takes his two unwilling accomplices on a road trip. Continued from 14.
> 
> All the good thing belong to Monolith Soft.

There was a duet of screams from the back passenger compartment when Tobias landed in Oblivia. He might have been a little angry about the situation, true. He might have been stewing about all the credits that inept fool Graham had lost him. Also slightly irritated to be dragging a chatty Ma-non technician as well. As a result, the landing on the sandy banks of Lake Basel might have been a tad heavier than necessary, as a way of blowing off a little of that frustration. He'd honestly forgotten how cramped the passenger space was. He didn't go for teams much, so he wasn't really concerned with the comfort offered by the area back there.

The screams resolved themselves into complaints, and Tobias stopped worrying that he'd caused them permanent damage.

"This is nothing like a Ma-non craft, okay? I could give you several suggestions and ..."

Graham's voice interrupted his buddy helium squeak. "Look, if my creditors realize I've left NLA, they're gonna start seizing my assets."

"I thought you had no assets," Tobias snarled back.

"They don't know that. That's the problem! They'll increase the interest rates if they knew how little there is to support my ..."

Tobias clicked the intercom off and focused on driving his skell along the banks of the lake. Multiple paths branched off of the shoreline, and if he didn't pay attention, the drift of the road would lead them into the wrong canyon, full of heavy handed indigen. Even kissing the shore had its own risks, with skell-ripping scorpions dropping off the bone arches and shimmering electric narwhals taking offense at their presence. It was a tricky negotiation, speeding here to dodge stingers and creeping there to maintain a meek profile. Tobias turned the skell sharply, sand spraying off the treads, to follow the narrow strip of land that led to the Nopon village in the center of the lake. Nopopotomus gawped loudly, but he ignored those as all bark, not nearly enough bite.

He parked with the skell's nose brushing a native tent. He leapt out of the pilot's capsule and banged hard on the back door. "Get out, losers," he barked.

Veven was even more greyish, but he bounced out first, probably using Graham as a springboard. Graham emerged, almost the same shade of grey. "You really could have left us in NLA," he whined.

"That was what I was trying to to to ..."

"You want me to run up against a problem and not have the map to check out?" Tobias snapped.

"If you had waited, I could have made you a copy, okay?" Veven squeaked.

"I'm not letting that Nopon bastard get wind of what we're doing by even a second. I don't trust either of you to keep your traps shut."

"If you don't trust us, why did you bring us?" Graham wailed.

Tobias swore at the obviousness of the answer. He marched into the center of the caravan, only a few steps for human-sized legs and looked around for the head honcho. Usually a caravan leader was notable by their terrible fashion choices, but this group seemed uniquely equally decorated with ridiculous gear in the form of ponchos and tiny gaucho hats, all of it fringed and beribboned.

"Do either of you know who's in ... Graham! Stop that!" He'd turned to find Graham crawling around a tree, nose to the dirt.

"Collectables, Tobias. I think one of them is even one of those kiweggs, worth at least..."

"SHUT UP! You could lay an egg every day for a month and it wouldn't begin to cover what you owe me." At least all the shouting had gotten the attention of the BLADE representative. A pink-haired woman, a human one, was trotting over to them. Tobias prepared himself to be his most charming in order to pry the necessary info from her. It wasn't going to be easy, with a background of Veven and Graham hissing snide remarks back and forth.

("I should have let him take your eyeballs, okay? Better than coming to to to this place."

"He was gonna take your goggles too, Vev."

"I have a spare pair. Do you?")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my stories connect regularly. I will bend and break prompts to manage it. Sometimes it's important, like a threat to NLA or a fight against a tyrant. This time it's ... the 3 Stooges on Mira? Okee dokee. Heavy Monster playlist is not to blame.
> 
> Next up: I wish that a prompt would save us. It will not. But drop one and maybe it will reduce the damage...


	16. 16 Fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias and crew move on to their destination. Cont. from 14 & 15.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Tobias wasn't any better of a driver leaving the Nopon caravan than he'd been on arrival. The engine roared and the gears clashed, and he took every turn just a little to fast in order to carve a gash in the water or the sand. He needed to calm down. If he kept blowing up like this, he'd blow the whole thing. He pushed the personal music feed a little louder and tapped his hands to the upbeat rhythm. No one was going to blow anything, he reassured himself. This was going to work.

An hour ago, he hadn't been so certain. He'd almost struck out and been sent home, all because of an overly meddlesome Mediator and the greediest Nopon he'd ever met, which was saying a lot both ways. Milly was cute in a sugar sweet way, but she'd asked far too many questions about why he'd left NLA and where he was headed and who had sponsored his mission. Mujiji had pegged the price for information at a level that would have put Tobias back to square one. Luckily, Graham had been flashing that kiwegg he'd scratched from the dirt, which caught the eye of the caravan leader's voracious assistant. Voracious and hungry and happy to answer their questions while he scarfed the pile of collectibles that Graham had gathered. He'd eaten the lot, including some things that didn't resemble any food Tobias had ever seen, and they were able to split with better directions to the entrance to the Ganglion base.

The canyon had fingers of side slots every few meters, but the combination of the informant's directions and the crude map pulled from Graham's circuitry was enough to guide an experienced Pathfinder to the right location. To be safe, he parked the skell some distance away, outside of enemy sensor range. Once again, he slapped the back passenger door and out tumbled the two assistants he was saddled with.

"I figured it out," Graham blurted. "Those collectibles would have covered a week's worth of interest. I could have been one week closer to ..."

"You'd be closer to Zeros-ville. Civilians can't sell materials to BLADE and no one else would give you decent credit. You'd have been better off eating those stick insects yourself." Tobias checked the smaller figure, surprised that he hadn't started spewing his own complaints. "You good there, Veven?"

"No, I am NOT good. I am the personification of bad, or do I mean unhappy? I want to go home and try to erase the memory of today with pizza. So much pizza. That's the only thought that's keeping me going."

"Whatever will get you moving. Come on, and do not make me repeat why you fools can't stay behind. And for the love of crackers, keep quiet if you don't want to get shot."

"Is the enemy that dangerous?" quavered Graham.

"I meant me," growled Tobias. "I'm closer."

The entrance to the particular slot canyon was narrow enough that they couldn't have walked side by side even if that hadn't been begging for death. Tobias took point, and to his surprise he didn't need to yank on Graham's tunic more than twice to keep him at a measured distance. They walked silently for a few minutes, until something about the echoes whispering off the sandstone walls made Tobias stop. When he pointed to the ground, both Graham and Veven eagerly crouched behind a boulder.

Tobias slid along the edge of the canyon, taking every opportunity to boost himself a little higher along the wall or clamber up a rock ledge. When he finally reached the gates of the fortress, he was placed a full head above the Prone that was standing guard.

It looked like an important facility, with several layers of security. They had built multiple barriers to prevent anyone trying to access the area. Tobias pitied any fool that needed to get to the heart of the complex. The outer layer, that was all he needed to breach, and if the information was right, the guard rotation had a full hour to go. The poor saps must be getting tired. Tobias counted two grey aliens, tiny ears wiggling on their broad heads, one moving slowly along the far edge, one nodding at the outer gate.

A minute later, he replaced his sniper rifle and whistled for his buddies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely ignoring prompts for the moment. Melbourne Ska Orchestra in the background.
> 
> Next up: More of this, except I have NO idea what they will find. Pretty please send me a prompt idea for when this is done, save meeeeeee!


	17. 17 Dig Dug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias and crew are hunting for treasure, arrrrrr. Cont. from 14-16.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

It was a good thing that Veven and Graham hustled over to meet Tobias. There was no telling what would have happened if they'd played the cowards, but they were obedient to his whistle. Tobias was already pacing away from the main gate, scuffing the dirt with his feet, trying to see if any of the tiles in the roadway looked promising.

Veven stood at the gate, tiny arms crossed. "You're doing it wrong, but what do I know?"

"What DO you know?" shouted Tobias over his shoulder.

"How big are your paces compared to to to a Nopon's bounce, hmmm?"

Tobias swore softly and stomped back to the gate. "Move," he ordered Veven. "84 paces."

"I am not a Nopon," shrilled the Ma-non.

"You're the closest we got, unless we have Graham crawl alon... GRAHAM GET OUT OF THE DIRT!"

"But I think I saw another kiwegg!"

"I swear you two are like a pair of toddlers. You, 84 paces," he said, pointing at Veven. "And you. Get your tucchus over here because we're gonna need parts of you in ..." (he watched Veven) "... 78 more steps."

"Shhh. I do need to to to to keep track a little," Veven snapped. If he expected Tobias to follow meekly, he would have been disappointed, but at least the two humans followed quietly. "Eighty, eighty-one..."

"Far enough," Tobias announced. The roadway had changed a few steps back. The tiles had switched from the regular grey and wired Ganglion design to something that was clearly more Nopon in manufacture. As Tobias swept them with the toe of a combat boot, faint impressions of leaves and other natural items were revealed in the brick-hard adobe paving. The traces spurred Tobias on to greater effort and within a few minutes he had a picnic sized area cleared.

"That's kind of pretty," Graham offered. "What now?"

"Veven, the goggles." Tobias ignored the reluctant Ma-non who sighed as he removed his precious accessory. Instead, he kept his eye on the twitching human.

"You know, I bet you remember what it was without seeing it again," offered Graham.

"Suck it up, buttercup," growled Tobias, his hand hard on Graham's shoulder, pushing him downward so Veven could reach his head. The alien wrapped the thick plastic straps around Graham's clammy skull and adjusted the metal disks over his eyes. When the accessory pinged cheerfully and Graham gasped uncheerfully, Tobias pushed harder until Graham was bent over, facing the ground. A shadow flickered on the flagstone, wavered, and resolved itself into a map.

There was the river and lake that they'd flown to. There was an incomplete sketch of the canyons that led to the fortress. The schematics of the gate area had been detailed, including the pacing.

"Please, it really sets off my migraines," whimpered Graham.

"Shut it." Tobias squatted to examine the map. "We got the location, but I'm not feeling like digging the whole thing up. I bet there's gotta be a little more going." He pointed to the decorated edge. Leaves and bugs chased each other around the sides of the map, with signature pawmarks and other Noponese symbols. "Can you read their lingo?"

"Yes, and no," Veven said. He was crouched even lower, not because of his diminutive status, but because he was struggling to see a thing closer than the end of his snout. "Noponese symbols, yes, but this isn't actual writing. I think you have to to to find the tiles that match and follow them, if you follow?"

A mad game of match the map to the sidewalk followed. Tobias shoved a increasingly distressed Graham back and forth across the patterns. He wasn't heartless; the new shift of guards was due in a short time, and while Tobias was fine with shooting them just as he did the first detail, alarms would be raised. They were so close. He pushed Graham a little harder, and the man fell to his knees.

"Please, for the love of Mike!" he begged.

"Come on, you got it in you. You can stick it out, man," Tobias said with harsh encouragement.

"Enough!" shouted Veven, his voice squeaking at a pitch that set grex howling for miles. He walked over to Graham and yanked the goggles off his head. The map vanished. Graham crumpled in a sweaty heap, breathing hard and rocking back and forth.

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for him," Tobias said. He was sweating a little himself. Graham's misery had been contagious.

"I feel sorry for me," replied Veven, squishing the goggles back into their rightful place. He patted and twisted them for a moment, then dashed over to a corner of the tiles. "Watching you was so so so disappointing, okay? What I could see, anyway."

"I need that map to find the X that marks the spot," Tobias said.

"I'll give you X. Y and Z, if you ask nicely, maybe?" Veven started to dance across the tiles, skipping over the impression of a flower, tapping twice on a leaf, twirling and jumping over what was possibly the ghost of a shell of Graham's adored kiwegg. "You can be content with doing things haphazardly, but I figured out the pattern." Veven made one last back-flip and landed with his tiptoes on a tile with the symbol of what looked like a cross between a bunch of grapes and a walnut. "Here is where you need to dig."

"Genius. Absolutely genius." Tobias checked that Graham was still breathing, then pulled out an entrenching tool. "But if I dig and find nothing, I'm burying both of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's hope they find the dingus.
> 
> Next up: One more for this group, because I need to cool off. After that, Celica and Hope, because somebody gave me a suggestion, yayyyyy!


	18. 18 Ka-ching (end of Team Tobias 14-18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobias and company find whatever it is they were looking for. End of 14-18.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Tobias tapped around the edge of the flagstone that Veven had declared was the correct one. The blade of the entrenching tool sliced the packed dirt that held the stone in place. Once the entire circumference was loosened, he carefully pried the slab up and twisted it away from the ground below.

"Nothing! There's nothing," Graham choked out. He was still lying on the ground, but he'd dragged himself closer while Tobias had been busy.

Tobias wasn't too irked by Graham's pessimism. Any complaint proved that the man wasn't dead; Tobias had to admit he'd been a little worried about the extended use of Ma-non googles on the unwilling map bearer. He didn't mention that point. Instead he snorted and said, "If there was a hole, we'd know we were too late. Dirt is something."

"Careful!" squealed Veven as Tobias lifted the first scoop of dirt.

"Pfft, I'm part Prospector. I know enough not to stab when I need to tickle."

He lifted the dirt in layers, centimeter by careful centimeter. He had to squash the urge to hurry. Part of his mind was screaming the seconds until the next guard patrol would arrive, when it wasn't whispering the dangers of surprise inspections or unscheduled transports. Graham's ragged discouragement and Veven's shrill caution were a nice distraction. It gave him a reason to show off his veneer of patience, even nonchalance, in the face of yet more empty dirt.

By the third layer, he had the first hint that he needn't be patient for long. Something tugged at the tip of the shovel. A fiber that was less root and more cord waved in the fresh scrape. Tobias stretched his arms quickly to the sky, dropped the tool, and knelt and started scooping with his fingers.

The dirt was definitely less solidly packed in this area. A little scratching revealed a small pouch, about the size of his fist. The fabric was crinkly, a weatherproof sheet made from compressed feathers (usually Saltat but at times Nopon in origin). Graham shook it, but there wasn't a sound. He didn't feel anything shift.

"It looks kind of of of disappointing, if you ask me?" Veven provided the fear what Tobias was trying to ignore.

"I didn't ask."

"That won't hold more than a few hundred credits worth of miranium," said Graham.

"I didn't ask you either," Tobias said. He was tempted to pull the cord loose with exaggerated slowness, just to annoy these two whiners, but he was dying of curiosity himself. He untied it quickly, revealing a second pouch, this one made from the bark cloth most commonly used by Nopon.

Graham and Veven continued to complain, but Tobias' fingers had already given him a hint. Whatever lay inside was heavy, round and toothed like a gear, detailed. He untied the second pouch and there it was, shining golden in the hard Oblivia sun.

"A dream catcher?" asked Graham.

"Nope. The certification coin for the Nopon Merchant Guild," Tobias said smugly.

"Can you sell it?" asked Veven.

"You can sell anything given the right conditions. But we gotta do it quickly before they make a new version and declare this one counterfeit."

Tobias raked the dirt roughly one more time, but nothing snagged or twinkled under the shovel. Then the three adventurers quickly retreated to the skell.

"You know, I should get most of of of of the profits, since who was it that found the location? Me, right?" Veven declared.

"I'm the one that suffered, and besides I need that money the most," Graham responded quickly.

"I'm the one with the coin, the contacts, and most importantly, the skell keys. You boys want to walk home?" Tobias wasn't 100% happy with today's haul, given the amount of time, effort and whining it had required, but every credit lifted him closer to his goal.

"Why do you need all those credits anyway?"

"None of your business. Now get in the skell and let's get home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: A similar coin is seen in the quest "Mia grows up", and I can't tell you how much I want one for myself.
> 
> Next up: Hope and Celica and the most important meal of the day, or so I hope. Prompt by Subspace Warrior, thank you! Wish me luck.


	19. 19 Breakfast Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Celica share a casual breakfast.
> 
> Prompt from Subspace Warrior, who is otherwise not to blame for any possible nonsense.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Hope carried two metal trays lightly as she walked to the edge of the encampment. "I brought you some breakfast," she said, passing one tray to the young woman who was sitting on a curving dune, looking down into the pale valley.

"Thank you," Celica said as she accepted the tray. "Oh my, this is quite an elaborate meal. I expected we would rely on ration bars this far away from NLA."

Hope smiled and settled comfortably next to her. "We usually do, but I think the team is using you as an excuse to glamp it up."

"Glamp?" Celica asked curiously.

"Camping but glamorous. Glamping," Hope explained, then looked worriedly at Celica's tray. "You aren't eating. Don't you feel well?"

"I feel perfectly fine," Celica assured her friend. "But it's a bit awkward. I do not wish to ask but is this ... is it ..." She waved a delicate hand at the steaming food.

Hope recognized the girl's reason for hesitation. "Don't worry. It's all strictly xeno-appropriate foodstuffs. The fluffy yellow lump is scrambled eggs, the square things are hash browns, and the round things are pancakes. The syrup on them is sweet." Hope took a large forkful and closed her eyes in enjoyment.

Celica tested a little of each, and was soon eating as enthusiastically as Hope. After a moment, she asked curiously, "I know that you humans don't always eat the same as I do. Why the change?"

"We can, although we don't have to. Part of our philosophy is to do our best to keep as many of our organic ties as possible, even if it's as unimportant as pancakes for breakfast."

"But it must have been a lot of trouble, to bring the fresh supplies all this way. Then to have to prepare them in such a limited space." The girl looked worriedly at the canvas structure of the away station, perched on the rim of the canyon.

Hope smiled and took another bite. "It really isn't that much," she explained. "My friends and I used to make these same foods when we went camping as children. Freeze dried packets and instant mixes, mostly. It's close enough to the real thing."

"But still," Celica said. "I would hate to be even the slightest hindrance to away teams. They mustn't think that I can't survive on emergency rations."

"No one thinks of you as a hindrance, dear, especially not after how well you fought yesterday." Hope looked across at the far walls of the canyons, the grey ribs tuning rosy in morning light. "We do it because we can. It's a challenge. You know how we like a challenge."

"Because it's there, correct?"

"Precisely. And combining this view with pancakes is the best possible way of proving we belong right here, on this world. And you belong with us."

Celica ate a few more bites before speaking again. "Do you think we can make a pancake large enough for Rock?"

Hope looked at her in shock, then laughed. "I'll mention it to Lin and the Commander. Now that we have the flight module, they need a new challenge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That turned out just as sweet as those two deserve, yes? Thanks again to Subspace for such a nice prompt. It was a challenge because I'm ashamed to say those two were never big on my teams; writing nice characters who aren't boring is also tricky. But I did it, because it's there.
> 
> Next up: I need to check my official list, or I could take another prompt from coto. Or send me something and see what happens.


	20. 20 I can drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin can drive, honest she can. There is nothing to worry about.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

"I can do it for you," Lin offered.

Doug looked down at the petite Outfitter as if she had suggested that she could amputate his leg for him. He backed a step away, protectively spreading his arms to shield his precious baby, his beauty of a ruby red sports car.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You know I can drive," Lin said.

"You are 13. Thirteen," Doug emphasized. "No way I'm letting a 13-year-old behind the wheel of this."

"I pilot skells all the time."

"And I help pound out the dents afterwards. No thanks. I'll get someone else to drive it back to the parking lot." A shout from the Harrier's camp reminded them both of his problem.

"Look, Doug, those dents are all due to indigen, not my driving. Your team needs to leave now, not later, not even long enough to find this magical someone else." Lin stood firm, hands on hips, and tried to stare him square in the face. It didn't work well, since she'd need to stand on a medium crate to meet him eye to eye.

Another shout, this time slightly panicked and backed by the whine of a skell's engine, was a better argument. "Fine, you got the job," he said, passing her the keys with reluctant fingers. "Speed limit the whole way, full stops at the intersections, park in the upper level away from everything. And one more thing. NO NOPON."

"Meeeehhhhhhh," wailed lin's rotund alien companion. "Dougie xenophobic."

"Cut it with that 20 credit vocabulary. It's a safety thing, and standard for new drivers. No friends when they're driving without an adult."

"Meeeehhhhhh, Unckie Dougie making things up to exclude Tatsu."

"Unckie? UNCKIE?!"

Lin quickly shushed her friend. "No, that's legit, Tatsu. I remember it from Earth. Tell you what: I'll meet you at Sunshine Cafe and we can split a crepe."

"Meh meh, Linly expect Tatsu to bounce as fast as a car?"

"Take the transport 'copter. I have to double back from the parking garage anyway." Lin gave the Nopon a solid push away from the gleaming vehicle. Only when he'd wobbled away in a cloud of "mehs" and other Nopon grunts of disappointment did Doug inch away from the driver side door.

"Speed limit, Lin. Don't even think of..."

"Doug, they're going to take off without you. You can trust me. Honest. I can drive."

A minute later, wind in her hair, singing along to her favorite pop song, blissfully free of Nopon commentary, Lin decided she needed to sweet talk someone into letting her have her own car. Elma and Nagi would say no, Irina and Cross would listen to them, and every one else was too broke. Except for maybe Commander Vandham. Yup, he'd probably give her one, maybe as a present for her birthday. That was a while away, though. No, she thought, a better idea would be to ask for it as a reward for finding the Lifehold. That would work nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you there was nothing to worry about. VULFPECK / Dean Town on loop.
> 
> Next up: Drop me a prompt or otherwise it will be me trying not to write yet another Frye-centric piece ... wait, no, I have an idea. Don't worry.


	21. 21 His fist flew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bar fight in the Repenta and IT'S NOT FRYE?! Wolf has had quite the week and his nerves are frayed.
> 
> Wolf is the scary bald trainer near the Missions board in game. Duna Valdileo is on the Ma-non ship.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Arya I borrowed from ChronoBlader. Still haven't named the bouncer, sigh.

Wolf was too tired to be drinking even weak beer, but he needed this break. This week had been almost as bad as the previous, even though thank god BLADE had cleared up the weird flu that had halved the fighting force. That had been so bad that he'd only come home to NLA for refueling and swapping in new weapons. Now at least he could manage a meal and maybe half a beer before heading out. Maybe by next week, things would be stable enough to resume his duties in NLA.

He sunk his head over the untouched beer. He wasn't entirely sure what his duties were anymore. Another Harrier was working the advice station by the Mission board. His program partner had been managing the xeno-training scheme all on her own and didn't seem to need or want his help anymore. He wasn't surprised. Miss Duna Valdileo could handling the problems of the small group of hopeful alien BLADE recruits as easily as she handled her family's and clan's problems. He probably needed to get used to away missions for the coming future.

The manager of the Repenta, Arya, brought him a hamburger plate that was already in danger of going as untouched as the beer. He should drag himself off to bed and grab a nap instead. Except he wasn't sure where his bed was, since he'd been bunking up on the Ma-non ship for months at this point. If he wasn't needed up there, he probably should see about shifting back to NLA proper. In the meantime he'd just grab a cot at the Harrier's encampment. He sat up straight and prepared to do a little damage to his meal, if only symbolically, before heading out.

Arya hadn't moved too far away. She was chatting with the hulking Prone leaning against the bar. It didn't take a genius at eavesdropping to discover this was one of the Repenta's newest bouncers. Wolf listened and realized the man wasn't new at all. He shook his head. It really had been a while since he'd hung out in the city. He guessed that would be changing now, and his limited appetite vanished.

"Where's that date you've been seeing recently? She hasn't been by in a while," Arya was saying.

"We are no couple. I seek nothing she wants." The Prone preened and flexed a giant arm.

Arya lazily wiped the bar countertop. "Too bad. She was a cute girl."

He laughed. "She is hardly a girl. She is a woman grown and older than I. Besides, she has too much family and more every day."

"Fine, have it your way." Arya looked slyly at her employee. "Still, even for a Prone woman, she was one hot mama."

The Prone's laugh became unnaturally loud. "Is it so with your people as well? The same?" he brayed. "Do your women also flare hotter when they bake a new loaf?"

"Uh, well, maybe?" Arya said with slight surprise. "Are you saying she has a bun in the oven? Like she's preg- - -"

Wolf plowed into the bouncer, shoving him away from the bar. He barely came up to the alien's shoulder, but he had speed, surprise, and experience on his side. Wolf might not be fresh, but he had transported the bouncer all the way to the exit before the other fighter thought to do more than roar and threaten.

The fresh air seemed to focus the Prone's limited skills. His fist flew straight at Wolf's face, but the BLADE fighter was too close for the impact to mean much. Wolf took the blow, then slid past the follow-up punch, hooking himself under the Prone's arm and swinging him in a wide circle, every step moving them away from the Repenta. A drunken Interceptor cheered but Wolf ignored that. The last thing he wanted was an audience.

The Prone tried to grapple with Wolf, and that might have been effective if Wolf hadn't spent the last six months training against Prone recruits. He grabbed right back, lower than the Prone expected, and lifted the man off the ground. It was a bumpy few seconds, less a carry than a bouncing walk. Wolf released the other fighter with a push that knocked the man off balance, and right where Wolf wanted. The Prone reeled backwards into a shipping container. The steel wall rang like a gong. Wolf launched himself into the man's chest, pinning him against the metal.

"I got one question. Who's the woman?"

Something dawned in the Prone's major eyes. "You are the one she works with."

"Is it Miss Valdilea?"

The Prone stood there, massive and at peace. "She talks so much about her work, I should have known."

"IS IT?"

"Ask her."

"I'M ASKING YOU!"

"Gather calm, human. Yes." The Prone reached down and pushed Wolf away, but without hostility. "And before you continue as Duna's warrior, do not think she wants me any more than I want her." His slabs of hands held Wolf still, but the pressure wasn't unkind.

Wolf's breathing was ragged and if he could have reached the Prone, he would have... Instead, he forced himself to stand as still as the Prone, glaring up into the broad blue face.

The Prone patted him genially on the shoulder and flicked his face tentacles in the equivalent of a smile. "It is as I said, we are no couple. She asked and I helped, that is all. She wants me as a husband even less than I want a wife. She was always unconventional. That is why we are friends."

"I beg your pardon, then," Wolf said stiffly. "If you'll excuse me." The mimetic fluid pounding in his ears drowned out whatever the Prone shouted at him as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Apologies, but this is a late scene from a half finished and mostly abandoned work over on fan fiction dot net (The Treasure of O'rrh Sim). But I keep hoping it isn't dead. The bar countertop showed up in "Drunkard, Hobo, Liar/17" (same place, that one is finished) and asked the question that Arya was relaying.
> 
> Next up: Why can't the Christophs be normal? Just for a little bit? Thank you to KrustyCheetahs for the prompt.


	22. 22 Just act normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina and Frye share the same division. Just this once, Irina would like Frye to share the same standards.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and the fun prompt is from KrustyCheetahs, thank you.

"Can you just act normal for this one mission?" Irina speared her bangs with her fingers, just short of pulling them out with frustration. "It's all I'll ask of you. One normal mission, no alcohol, no bragging, no stunts. Drop the Blood Ostrich nonsense. Just one professional mission and I'll never hit you up for anything hard again."

Frye leaned against a ugly beast of a skell, both of them filthy to their hips. He had a vacuum flask in his hand, and the smell of vodka cut through the NLA night. He tilted his head back and lubricated his throat before responding. "Oh doll face, you're asking for a lot then."

Irina sucked a breath through her teeth, then let it out slowly. "I need someone from our division as my partner."

"Take Gwinny boy then."

"I need someone with weight." She walked over to a maintenance box and pulled out two rags. "Clean yourself up before that mud hardens."

He grabbed one rag and leered. "You gonna help buff me?"

"I'm getting the worst off your skell before you need to use a sandblaster against it."

He grabbed her wrist before she could start swiping. "Leave it. The outfitters wanted to test something against grime, and I went and got them a test subject."

Irina looked down at his filthy uniform. "And you look like that because...?"

"It didn't feel fair to let the thing suffer alone. Hanging around with Alexa must have done something to my noodle." He took another pull on his flask before flicking at his knees with the rag. A glob of mud landed on his boot with a glutenous splat.

Irina stood there, holding an unnecessary rag, pressing her lips together but not saying a word. Frye looked up at her and wrinkled his nose. "Look, Irina, you don't like what I got. Pick another Interceptor. It's just a half mission."

"It's a test to see if we can grab some of the lower tyrant missions from the Harriers. If the team can pull it off, we can start getting more respect, more opportunities, more resources. I'm tired of seeing the Harriers get the newest equipment. You've seen how raggedy some of our teams' skells are. I want that to change."

"So why bug me?"

"I need someone good. If you'd try to be normal, you'd make a model soldier."

"Good, ha! I can't hide behind normal. People take one look at my face and know I've seen the bad end of a beer bottle. The good end too." He stopped swiping at his knee, even though it was almost as filthy as the start, and pulled out his flask again.

Irina frowned sharply. "It's a test mission, but BLADE's making it hard. I only get the one partner. You have the offensive skills and the stamina to pull it off. I need this to work. I put my reputation on it." She stopped and looked away.

"You and your ambition," Frye drawled wetly.

She twisted back towards him and shook the rag in his face. "Make fun of my ambition, fine, but I know that if you dropped all this bull, you'd be just what I need to prove Interceptors can do the job."

Frye pulled the clean rag from her hand and passed her the filthy one. He bent over his other knee. "I'll be at the gate at 0600."

"Really? I mean, yes, good, make it 0500, so I can double check ."

"You can buy me a coffee during that hour. I'll be there, fresh uniform, perfect layout, the works. My skell will be a temple of cleanliness. I won't say nothing but 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir,' and 'Three bags full, sir.'"

"You don't have to be that stiff, Frye," Irina muttered.

"Oh, you know I can't resist a dare. I'm gonna make your eyes pop out of your head. I might even swing by Phog and traumatize him a little."

"Thanks. I won't ask anything like this again."

"Ask away, doll face. It's in my own self interest to have the best people be head of the Interceptors. And by best people, I mean you. See ya at 0500."

[eight hours later, chatter on the comms as two skells hovered over the defensive wall of NLA]  
 _/NLA this is AresINT84 requesting guidance to Sylvalum/_  
 _/roger AresINT84 is your partner ready/_  
 _/Blood Ostrich are you ready to proceed/_  
 _/yes sir, Guns Empress, Blood Ostrich is ready/_  
 _/NLA this is AresINT84 we are ready to proceed requesting guidance to Sylvalum/_  
 _/sending course now AresINT84 and good luck/_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irina has nagged Frye before, in Drunkard. He doesn't mind, much. Other people he'd probably not be as chill about the suggestion. I really enjoyed doing this prompt, so thanks again to KrustyCheetahs for the chance. And, yes, I rather enjoyed parts of Daemon x Machina, whooo! Radio Quiet by Griffin McElroy on loop.
> 
> Next up: No idea. Cave music slaps though.


	23. 23 Hey Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christophs on a mission, with caves and excitement. Too much excitement for Frye already.
> 
> Two OCs, but they'll be left behind. Swears, because I just can't not.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Prompt by guest, thank you.

Panic had gripped Frye the moment he couldn't spot his brother at the campsite. Dr. Karen hadn't noticed, but it seemed to Frye that she didn't notice much, being cut from the same cloth as Phog. Rocks meant more to her than people. They'd escorted her to the top of sickle ridge so she could measure something or other gravity blah blah blah. Honestly, Frye had tuned her out, only checking to see if his brother was okay with having yet another stranger on the team. Bringing Veena had been bad enough, but somebody had to be in charge of the map. There was an added reason for bringing her along. Frye trusted his former division mate, now a freshly minted Pathfinder, to remember how to shoot crap to hell and back if needed. But that was supposed to be his job, keeping everyone safe. Now his brother was missing.

He waved politely to the good doctor after she shrugged at his question. He'd leave her to the samples and try to find Veena before he really lost it. He spotted the other BLADE's dark head on the edge of the curving meadow, where the ground disappeared and left only a sheer drop to the Primordia plains. She turned at his sharp whistle and waved frantically. He couldn't tell what she shouted, but he'd find out soon enough, the speed he was running towards her.

"I tried to stop him, but he just jumped" were the first words he heard, and Frye just about launched himself off the edge himself. He screeched to a halt and looked wildly at Veena instead. She wouldn't still be standing here if it was as simple as that.

"He had a line on, and it's still taut," she continued, and Frye knelt down in a crouch. Maybe Veena would think he was examining the the rope attached to a metal loop on the lip of the cliff. The anchor had been freshly placed, the cut in the rock still bright. Frye kept his head down as Veena explained, double checking the knots, flicking a few fresh rock chips, trying not to hurl. "He said he needed to check something and the next thing I knew he just..." Veena lifted her palms helplessly into the empty air.

Frye stood up very slowly and carefully. "Did you try to contact his comm device?" His brother had done this kind of stunt before. He'd be fine. Frye would kill him when he came back.

"I didn't want to bug him! He was swinging over towards the north leg of the arch. He said he saw a cave entrance."

"Of all the ... okay, this is what we're gonna do. You're gonna get me another length of rope, and then I'm going to bring the idiot back. I'll try to contact him. Run!"

Veena ran.

Frye pulled out his comm device, but his hands were shaking too hard for him to activate it. He pressed it tight to his chest for a moment, then with a clumsy fist managed to beat it open and get the screen to flash bright. "Phog!" he barked. The comm device bleeped its lack of comprehension. Frye repeated the name with the careful enunciation of a man with long experience at hiding his blood alcohol levels. He wished it was alcohol that was making him lose control. He waited for it to ring and ignored the urge to hug the phone again.

"..." His brother's face floated like a ghost in, yes, what looked like a fucking cave.

"Hey, buddy," Frye crooned softly into the phone. "Wanted to see how you were getting on."

"... ... ..." Phog's smile was sunny. "It's really neat here, Frye."

"Great, great." Frye smiled back and gave a thumbs up to Veena, racing back to him with rope flapping behind her. "Look, you remember the drill. You take a buddy. That's me, buddy."

"We're not kids, Frye," Phog replied. "I'll be back up in less than an hour."

"And I'll be down there in 10 minutes." Frye watched as Veena started laying out coils in smooth and even batches. "I promised that I was going by the books from now on."

The look that Phog gave him almost made him laugh. True to his word, five minutes later Frye was knotted in, triple checked by Veena, and sailing through the air towards a dark spot on the underside of the rock arch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there may be a second story to this. "Hey Brother" on loop. Suggestion by Guest, oh no twist my arm I'm writing about Frye...
> 
> Veena was briefly in "Secret Santa with Frye and H.B." on fanfiction dot net and more recently in Hourly Challenge: Exploration, there and here. Dr. Karen was in Inktober 2019/13/Ash (there) and still needs a last name. Yes, daily stories happen every 6 months with me, then I go into hibernation.
> 
> Next up: Look, it has to end by the 28th because one of my OC's has a date for that prompt.


	24. 24 Shafted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frye gets hurt. Phog's okay, though. Continued from Ch. 23.
> 
> Harm warning, but not graphic. Two OCs from last chapter.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Inspired quite a bit by art by Rosyan.

Frye should have felt panic, but he didn't. In retrospect, the lack of panic should have been the sign to start panicking. Instead, he felt a light buzzing numbness. Not unpleasant and nothing like intoxication, more like the pause between breaths, and certainly not painful. Phog must have done a bang up job when he shot Frye full of whatever had been in the small medi kit he'd pulled from one of his pockets.

Frye had made it to Phog with no trouble, if you don't consider flying through the air 20 stories above the plains of Primordia using nothing but a length of high tensile rope as a trouble. Frye didn't, not when he reached the ledge at the cave entrance and had ducked his head in to find his brother several meters down and totally uninterested in being rescued. Phog had scaled down a rock tube hollowed out in the center of the supporting arch.

"Yo, numbnuts! Look up!" Frye had shouted into the vertical tunnel. Phog had unsurprisingly not looked up.

Frye hadn't even wasted a sigh. He'd fastened a second coil of rope doubly secure, then lowered himself into the shaft. It was wide enough to reach Phog without bumping him. He winced when he noticed that Phog wasn't roped up.

"Buddy, you're killing me. Let me link up with you."

Phog ignored Frye's fussing. He had his comm device hanging around his neck, recording probably, but also shining a dim light that made his face glow like an angel's. "I know how the arches formed."

"Sure, sure, hold still..." Frye reached out with an extra clip to attach to Phog's belt.

Phog shrank away from Frye. "I'm hooked," he said resentfully, and pointed to a single wire running from his belt to a gap in the wall. "It's a cinch to free climb anyway."

Frye reached out again. "Humor me. Then tell me about what you figured out.'

Phog laughed, a slight sound that whispered up and down the shaft. "You wouldn't understand it."

"So long as it doesn't put me to sleep," Frye said, and was glad to hear the snap of the carabiner on Phog's belt. He kept one hand on his brother's hip, and used the other to scrub the sweat out of his eyes.

The cave wall had crumbled at that moment.

It hadn't been a dramatic break. It was just enough that Phog's toe had slipped, and he'd yanked down on Frye. Frye had gripped him, but the jerk had sent him spinning sideways. Phog's silver lifeline hadn't been up to the task, just as Frye had suspected. The two of them were now spinning and dangling over an empty nothingness. Phog's comm device had flown down into the void, but neither had the time to watch its light disappear. Between bouncing off the wall and gripping Phog's belt so hard he thought his fist would crack, Frye hadn't even managed to grab his own rope to steady himself. But it would be okay. The rope was good, the knots were good, the carabiner was good, they'd be fine.

When Phog's belt gave way, Frye had empty air in his hands and only one plan, one that had been in his brain since the minute he swung away from Veena. He unclipped and fell, after his brother, hoping the idiot had scrambled against the walls enough to slow himself, maybe get a purchase. Hell, he might even be the one to grab Frye.

If Frye had bothered to breathe, he might have been able to tell you how many seconds it took to reach his brother. Phog was sliding along the wall, not exactly falling but not exactly stopping. Frye scrambled along and they plummeted together, slower than a free fall but not reducing their speed by much. Gravity works differently on Mira, every one had accepted that (although Dr. Karen was still arguing with the planet on the details), but landings could still be bad. Frye kept an eye on the pit below, even if it was a useless black. He kept an ear on it, and when the echoes went from eerie to flat, he grabbed Phog, pulled the kid to his chest, and turned his back on the impact.

His shield was a good one, biased towards physical resist with a side of gravity. It smacked into the uneven floor, protecting the two brothers from the worst of the blow. Frye felt it fail, though. Not the worst he'd been hit, but something cracked along his hip and the emergency notices flashed behind his retinas. He ignored the scrolling ones and zeros, holding tight to Phog. He did his best to roll through the impact, keeping it from hitting his brother. They slid only an arm length further, finally lying uncomfortably on rocky spikes.

"Stalagmites," said Phog. Frye could hear him scratching around while keeping one hand on Frye's chest.

"Gnnnnnrrhhh," replied Frye.

"I think I found my comm device."

"Gnnhh? Niceghhhhhhhh."

"It's broken."

"Aw. Gnnhhhfngg. You got nnngghhhh a medi ghnnnnngh kit?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Cliffhanger, because I want to do other things tonight. It'll be fine!
> 
> Rosyan has done some brutal art of Frye, "Distress", over on deviant art and is worth a look and a follow. The light, the expression, the armor! Some of Rosyan's art is nsfw so have those shields up and ready if that's necessary.
> 
> Belligerence Limit on loop.
> 
> Next up: I'm telling you, he'll be fine!


	25. 25 Safe (Cave end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frye waits for the cavalry to come. Concluding 23-24.
> 
> Swears? Alcohol? Dr. Karen?
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

It was getting cold, or maybe that was just Frye. Rock sucks heat out of you given enough time. He'd been lying on this grotto floor for a while, at least 30 minutes. Or was it a couple of hours? That was part of the problem with losing track of time. He supposed he could figure it out from the emergency warnings still flaring in his eyes, but that came too close to noticing the pain creeping along his back. It definitely came too close to noticing how the pain stopped before it reached his legs.

He couldn't check the time the normal way because he'd sworn he wasn't turning on his comm device until it rang. They'd tried contacting the outside, but neither had been surprised to find that there was no signal, down in this unknown pit. Phog had muttered a little about miranium excretion flow and ether interference, and for a while Frye had had something besides the pain to ignore. Then Phog had fixed his device enough to emit light, handed Frye his comm device back, and stood up. "I'll call you when I'm at the top."

"Your comm doesn't work," Frye had said.

"I'll borrow Veena's."

Frye had lain there, watching his brother scramble up the wall of the shaft. The light had diminished as Phog had climbed, until Frye was lying in darkness. It wasn't completely black, not like it should have been. Those damage messages were flickering onto the walls, outlining the seams in faint red traces. Added to that was the occasional flash of ether particles. Or maybe that was a flash of pain made visual, Frye wasn't completely convinced. In any case, he wasn't adding the light from his screen until it was completely necessary. Better to be blind for the moment and ready to notice any new light than trapped in a tiny bubble of light and unable to see anything coming at you.

He lay there, waiting for the shivering to begin, watching each flash of ether (or pain), vaguely planning what he'd drink when he got back to NLA. A whiskey drink, then a vodka drink, then ... what came next in the song? Bourbon, and that native Miran mescal that Alexa was developing with Prof. B. That stuff brought on the flashes that Frye would have preferred to be seeing right about now.

He didn't answer the comm device on the first ring. All this time (or was it only a few minutes?) and he still needed to prepare himself. He angled the phone carefully, wiped the pain off his face, and hit "answer". The blast of light made him close his eyes, but he kept that shit-eating grin on his face. "Hey Phog."

"I'm coming down now."

Frye opened one eye worriedly. Phog sounded uncomfortable. Frye saw two faces crowded into the screen. Dr. Karen was bumping against Phog, peering worriedly through the shining rectangle. "Uh, hey Doc. What are you doing there?"

"We've worked out a plan, Frye. Phog will be climbing down to you and I'm on rope and communications duty."

"I expected Veena."

"I sent her back to NLA for a proper team. If we don't manage to get you out, they will."

"We will," muttered Phog.

"Then we've wasted their time and I could care less," snapped Dr. Karen. Phog sulked, and Frye noticed he was wearing a climbing helmet with the initials "K.S." on it. Phog hated those things. Their dad had never managed to make him wear one for long. Frye needed to ask Dr. Karen what her last name was and also if she was free to baby sit his brother.

"So, are we clear? You keep your comm device on so Phog can head down. I'll keep you company when I'm not untangling the ropes when your brother gets in a spin."

"I won't spin."

"Then you won't need untangling. When he reaches you, we've rigged up a little surprise that should make the return trip simple. So, everyone ready?" Every line around her weather-beaten eyes crinkled when she smiled, and Frye felt something that surprised him. He felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: I told you he'd be okay. I could tell you about Dr. Karen's lack of last name ("I'm not sure if I'm divorced or dead, so I really can't tell you"), or the surprise (she studies rocks that float and has ideas), or the time she stole Nagi's drink at the Repenta before... But I think the story's done. Maybe another time.
> 
> Next up: Sunday. There's a few spaces if you have a prompt, idea, suggestion. 28th will be Rosalee vs a name on a napkin. 29th will be short because: 5th Anniversary XCX WHOOOOOOOO!


	26. 26 Drip drip drip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Cross' team is sent to shape up a group of slackers partying at the Biahno Water Plant.
> 
> Spoilers to the Lakeside Getaway quest. Slightly changed as to how it went. OR YOU COULD GO READ "MISTAKES WERE MADE" BY LANCA226 OVER ON FANFICTION DOT NET WHICH IS THE BEST RETELLING OF THIS QUEST AND ONE OF THE BEST XCX FANFICS GOING OMG IT IS SO GOOD.
> 
> All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and the main line quests can go hang if they give us side quests like thiiiiiiiis!

She hadn't returned yet. The team had been happy to let her leave the control room. She had insisted, but Cross probably would have found an excuse to get her away from the banks of video screens. Doug had nodded behind Ajoa's back when she'd asked to take a quick shower, but Cross hadn't needed confirmation. Whatever the security recordings showed, it was going to be bad.

Time was ticking however. She'd said she wouldn't take long, that they could call her through the flimsy door if they needed her to answer a question, that they could even barge in if they needed to. Cross hadn't started fired up the recording until the sound of streaming water could be heard from the locker room. Now the sounds of showering had stopped and they'd only gotten through about two-thirds of the material. Cross leaned on the fast forward button to speed through the identification messages.

Standing in the control room was uncanny. Even the flaring red alarms didn't change the everyday setting. None of the monsters from outside had touched the industrial setting. Everything was as it should be. Chairs, empty coffee cups, paperwork in untidy stacks, testing levels still recording on several panels. Cross couldn't reconcile this humdrum environment with the chaos of the grabbing fists of the hideous mutated cantors lurking outside. The video fragmented on the screen, steadied, skipped, steadied itself again, and started to run. Cross steeled themself to watch what was might be the last seconds of one of the missing water treatment technicians' lives.

It wasn't horrific at all. Cross regretted letting Ajoa leave but figured she could skim it, sad as it was, when she got back. Sure, the guy on the video, Ian, looked shocked. He should. The rest of the team had already been killed when he was recording it, eaten by the monsters outside. A fate that would soon be Ian's, although the man didn't know it. Cross knew it. The only reason they could review these images was because they'd retrieved Ian's ID card from the belly of one of the creatures they'd fought.

The images were intermittent, but Ian's voice was clear, clinical if rushed as his time ran out. When he had reached the half way point of his explanation, Doug was already positioned by the locker room door, weapon drawn. The video cut out entirely, but not the last agonized screams as the technician met his doom. The recording ended. The animal howling continued from behind the same door that Ajoa had gone through a few minutes before.

Two kicks was enough to get through. The crash must have surprised whatever had made that sound. Only the soft drip, drip, drip of water could be heard. Cross looked around, seeing rows of lockers, two deep, leading to a plastic folding curtain. Something dark, hulking, and too large to be human was wavering behind it.

"Ajoa?"

The reply was a mockery of a human voice. "Wa... ter .. waa ...ter ... I'm ... ssomethiiiiing isss ... aaarhhghhh!"

The sound of gunfire on tiled walls rang in Cross' head for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how EXTREMELY GOOD "MISTAKES WERE MADE" IS? SO GOOD OMG! By Lanca226. The battle sequences! The team of OCs! The tension! People being intelligent and stupid, i.e. very human! SO GOOD! Unfinished, but that doesn't make it any less amazing. SOOOOO GOOOD!
> 
> Also, if you want to see stories faster, they show up on fanfiction dot net earlier, sometimes days earlier. Look, I am an old dog, and AO3 is a powerful but confusing tool ... that lets me include links TO FICS LIKE "MISTAKES WERE MADE" yes!  
> <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12045991/1/Mistakes-Were-Made>
> 
> Next up: Drop me a prompt or we may get cooking lessons...


	27. 27 Pastry Chef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrothian cooking tips with Ni Zain.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. I got a lot of these tips from an NHK show on curry.

Welcome to all my new viewers. I hope you will be very happy with today's lesson: curry.

Do not be shocked and do not be too eager. I will NOT be giving you the secrets of my cafe's curry. Every warrior must have their special move, and you must find your own. But do not be disappointed. Every warrior begins with the same exercises, and in this way you will carve your own victory.

I recommend using the packaged curry mix from the local Food Coop. Again, I sense that you are now truly shocked, but perhaps you have learned patience. Yes, it is common and uninspired, but it is a solid foundation for greatness. You must simply exercise and expand.

To a hot pan add a swirl of oil. When it shimmers like the Oblivian sands during a heat wave, you are ready to add reconstituted shinuyuni garlic. I pause to remind you that fresh cloves are healthsome but will make you hiss like a Zaruboggan. Best to use the dried flakes. Also ginger, but this may be fresh. It is a curious root, your ginger; the flavor is so felicitous. Use plenty, and your curry will succeed.

Next add onions, both yellow and kyatara. The yellow ones provide body, while the peels for the kyatara are almost as savory as ginger. Cut the onions so that two pieces would make uneasy partners in a spoon. So do warriors struggle in training but unite in battle. Do not chop too small and do not question if you have added too much; you want curry for warriors, not kittens. A splash of water will prevent burning if your pan has grown too hot.

I will pause to tell you exciting news from the Ma-non ship. My good friend De Zing has begun to produce a line of cooking knives. His skill as a swordsmith is unequaled, and his household products will be no less. Remember: De Zing is the thing.

When all is glossy and soft, you may add your other ingredients. Potato, carrot, celery root, that goes without saying. But how shall you blaze your path? You must think of your guests and suit them. Do you wish to entice Orphe? Then brambloo shoots are all you must add. Are you a host to Nopon? They prefer plainer fare, so bagflee squash and fish is an acceptable combo. We Wrothians prefer to enjoy life to its fullest: will pepper and ovis meat, cooked slow and eaten with comrades. Experiment, my friends, and you will earn your rewards.

Remove from heat and add the packaged curry. You see now that it is only a grace note to your individual style, little more than salt and oil and color. Stir gently and then heat until thickened. Behold! Is it not a treat for Wrothian and BLADE?

Please click subscribe for more "Training with Ni Zain". I am working on a special double episode on godmelon-based sweets. Be sure not to miss it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like doing something brainless and fun, and this prompt provided. I make a lot of curry and it is always different. Sometimes grand, sometimes soupy. Someday I will get the proportions perfect.
> 
> Next up: Rosalee the OC has a fight with a napkin.


	28. 28 Name on a Napkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalee the OC meets up with someone she teamed with briefly.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but these three dorks are mine.

Rosalee peered across the bar to spot the voice that had called to her. The waving hand, each finger tipped with crimson, should have made it clear, but Rosalee didn't want to assume. She frowned at the gesturing woman and then almost blinked when the woman's smile lit up the dark and crowded space. Rosalee pushed her way towards the table. The pounding in her ears didn't match the music.

"Rosalee, babe, have a seat. You know Izzy? He moonlights with us Harriers sometimes." The woman with hair like a thunderstorm gestured toward a squat man that Rosalee forgot instantly. "Have a seat. We're just about to order dessert."

"Thanks." Rosalee slid in, keeping one foot hooked on the edge of the bench. "How you been, Marguerite?"

"Oh, you know me, trying to keep cool at all costs. Izzy, you should have seen me on the mission I shared with Rosalee. Oblivia at its hottest and me riding in Barret's newest skell."

Her companion whistled appreciatively. "He's got nice rides."

"He's a madman. All about the power, nothing about the comfort! He'd neglected to tell me it had zero air conditioning. But of course, I didn't dare change a thing. I was broiling by mid morning." She leaned her head back and fanned herself with exaggerated flicks of ruby nails. Rosalee remembered watching a sweat bead follow the curves of Marguerite's neck when they took a break that morning.

"So what did you do?" Izzy asked with mild interest.

Marguerite winked at Rosalee. "Stripped down to my sports bra and drank a lot of water. We got the job done, but I want hazard pay next time."

The waitress arrived and the table ordered dessert. Rosalee wondered if she should order more than sherbet when she heard the other two order a total of five more sweets. "We can share," Marguerite said. "I'll let you take a bite of everything."

Rosalee stared at the woman's perfectly arched eyebrows, the smooth crescent of her forehead, her lips that matched her nails.

"You like it?" asked Marguerite. "The brand is spendy, but I think the colors would suit you. Not that I don't like the lipstick you're using now, mija. Very fierce."

"Yeah, I'm all about being fierce," Rosalee said. She really needed that sherbet and fast.

Two comm devices chimed in unison and conversation halted. Marguerite and Izzy answered and within seconds were talking very excitedly about what was clearly the same problem. "Hold on, I can ..." "Ten minutes?" "No, absolutely." "She's right here, we can do it."

"Trouble?" Rosalee asked.

"We gotta go," Izzy said, maneuvering out of the booth.

"Yeah, sorry," Marguerite said with what Rosalee thought was genuine regret. "Team got pinned by twin tyrants in, where else, Oblivia. Lucky for me it's our on-call night." The faint worry in her face increased. "Oh! The bill!"

"I'll get it," offered Rosalee.

Marguerite laughed. "Thanks. You'll be sorry, once you see how much me and Izzy had for dinner. I'll try to cancel the desserts on the way out."

The bill had indeed been staggering, and Rosalee had called herself a sucker when she didn't see Marguerite again. She practically haunted the Repenta for a week, but she never spotted the other woman. Enough, she thought, time to find a new hangout. She paid what she expected would be her last tab.

The bartender checked her signature and brightened. "Oh hey, I have something for you." He pulled a small folded paper from his apron. "Hope this isn't something gross, okay? Tell me if I should get on her case."

On an untouched bar napkin were the words "I owe you" and a name and number. Rosalee ignored those, all her being focused on the lip prints seared into the corner, red as the sunsets of Oblivia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosalee is officially over Irina. Over on fanfiction dot net, Rosalee was in Rosalee and Lucky, Day of the Dead, and Ring Around the Rosies. Izzy was just a name in Secret Santa with H.B. and Frye. Welcome to Marguerite, who knows what she wants.
> 
> Next up: Can it be short? I wrote two stories today. (Because Happy 5th Anniversary Xenoblade X! Oooh I could link that ... as soon as I post it here.... [ Build a Xeno https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905531 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905531) )


	29. 29 French Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neesae is working on getting college credit but it's harder than it should be. Her ex-teammate Rosalee has sympathy.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but Rosalee and Nees are mine (and Neesae is my third official Cross). Prompt by Martin III, thank you!

Neesae slapped her notebook down by her side and sagged back against the wall. Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, carefully keeping her boots from dirtying the bedspread. She huffed a long protesting sigh.

Rosalee looked up from the weapons sight she was adjusting. "Sick of studying already?" Her friend had taken to doing her homework in Rosalee's room, and usually it was a quiet hour or two, with the occasional grunt, positive or negative, from Neesae.

"I hate this class," growled Neesae and slumped even lower. Now her hips were in danger of sliding off the bed as well.

"I thought you were doing okay in your classes. You got that GED in record time."

Neesae eyed her former teammate. "Why are you messing with rifles? I thought you rocked psycho launchers 24-sev?"

"You're changing the subject. What's wrong? Do you need help?"

"You offering?"

Rosalee laughed and put the metal bits down. "Not me, but I'm sure somebody can help. Is it math?"

"Pffft," Neesae said grandly, and her normal pride reasserted itself. She rose up on an elbow and waved grandly at an unseen audience. "That I can handle, given enough time, which I spend on it, let me assure you." She flopped back down on Rosalee's bed and stared at the ceiling. "No, this is French class."

"What's the point of that?" Rosalee said skeptically.

"I know!" agreed Neesae. "No one speaks it, and even when they do, we all can understand it as if they were talking normal."

Rosalee Lopez, daughter of Jaime and Inez Lopez and embodiment of a Guatemalan temple wall carving, bristled. "By normal you mean..."

"Sorry. We all understand each other just fine."

"So back to my question: why French?"

Neesea wriggled a moment, folding her hands behind her head. "They're using the old standards, I guess. Four of this, two of that, and one year of a foreign language." She rolled back onto her elbow, but her whole body telegraphed exhaustion. "Thing is, any time the teacher speaks to us, we hear English. Or whatever. Not French. It only sounds foreign when it's recorded. And same back. We have to record all our assignments. Sometimes I'll finish something, play it back, and realize I switched into English 5 seconds in and kept on going. It's the pits."

Rosalee nodded. "I know what you need."

"What?"

"Anime."

"What?!"

"Hey, I polished up my English watching Pokemon dubs. Dubbed into English, not Spanish."

"So?"

"Find a show you like and a dub that's decent and you'll love practicing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GED general education diploma, replaces a high school diploma if you leave early. Neesae was 17 at the time the Whale launched, although she looks like a 30 year old. She started teaming with Irina and Gwin after Ch. 8.
> 
> That was a fun prompt and let me yell about Miran translation services. Thanks again to Martin III.
> 
> Next up: for the love of clams, we made it to the end of April. No idea what the prompt is. You may end up with Lila/Vandham shippy trash nonsense, whoooooo!
> 
> (that is indeed what it is, you have been warned)


	30. 30 Guts (Jack & Lila)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vandham has a question for his ex. Lila changes her mind. Mira provides a sunset. Gino drops an unnecessarry f-bomb.
> 
> Swears. Ridiculously self-indulgent fluff. You have been warned. Prompt from Draco but he's not to blame for this.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Lila and Gino have been riding in my head for over 4 years now.

She felt her skin prickle before he'd crossed the official line that marked the footage she was leasing for the skell refueling station. His boots were enough to send early warning signals a minute before he could reach them, but she counted on him swerving as he'd done every other time. Tonight he didn't. She had climbed down the ladder to a Verus in need of serious washing and was ready to greet him when he arrived. He made straight for her, and she didn't even congratulate herself on being prepared.

"Commander. What can we do for you?"

"Got some time?"

She drew a completely natural breath and topped it off with a polite smile. "Sure. Do you want to step into the office?"

"No, out here's fine. I want to run something by you, just not ..." He looked around the station. She knew his eyes were taking all the improvements of the past months. She wasn't going to ask what he thought.

"No one's in the waiting area, if that'll work?"

"Fine, fine," he said quickly.

She led him over to the garishly decorated scrap of artificial lawn that made up the customer waiting area. No coffee, that they could buy from the Quickie Quickie Mart at the back of the station, but there were a few summery lawn chairs and plastic pinwheel flowers, as well as a rotating stock of twinkly lights. This week it was yellow plastic ducks, winking cheerfully. Soon she'd switch it to something more autumnal, apples or leaves perhaps. The seasons never changed on Mira, but that didn't stop her from marking the calendar with kitschy decorations.

He kicked a deck chair out of the way and stood in the center of the area, feet planted firmly, arms crossed. He glowered down at her and she lasered back up at him. It felt very familiar. She was not going to help him out.

xcxcxcxcxcx

It was already going wrong. He'd gotten this far, however, so he launched into it. "I've been seeing Hope recently."

"H.B. may have mentioned that. Congratulations. She's a lovely person."

He practically recoiled. "Jesus, Lila, not like that. She's a baby!"

"Oh."

He grabbed at his scattered thoughts. "I've been seeing her professionally. As a Mediator."

"Oh. Oh!" He watched her recalculate and caught a glow of something. "I'm glad. You deserve all the support, sir."

"Yeah, thanks. It was getting to a point where I had to do something. It helps, talking to her about work and stress and ... us."

"There was no us," she said automatically. He hadn't expected anything different.

"I gotta let her think there is. Anyway, she said something and I can't stop thinking about it." He'd planned it this way, putting it on Hope a little. Something in his gut told him he needed to move it a little away from just the two of them. And Hope _had_ mentioned it. "She said that sometimes things that end badly can end well, if both parties are willing to look at it."

He looked hopefully at Lila. She kept her basilisk gaze steady on him. He sighed and gestured vaguely, grabbing at something unseen. "It got me thinking. It was good having you on my team. Good to have someone to shoot ideas off of, good to have each other's back. I could use some of that. I could definitely use somebody I didn't have to hide things from."

"You have Hope."

"I can't tell her everything. I have to be careful not to let things slip, and I was thinking maybe you're in the same boat."

"Easy solution, sir. Don't talk about it."

He ignored that suggestion. "Besides, Hope doesn't know engineering from crap. If I start talking about it to other people, well, Nagi starts yawning, Pfeffen is painfully polite at my weak ass ramblings, and Lin..." He shrugged and grimaced. "There's only so much I can take of her brand of enthusiasm."

He spotted the twinkle in her eye, but there was no smile to match it. He took heart. "Look, a couple times this summer, it felt like we could manage friendship. I'm not asking for a do-over, not that that's the right term. But I could go for something better than this ..."

"Deep freeze?" she said in a voice that matched.

"I could stand something more like what we had on the Whale. It's closer to me, but I bet you could remember it, if you thought it was a good idea. I'm gonna trust you on this one though. Whaddya say? Friends?"

"Close your eyes, sir."

"What?"

"Just for a moment. Please. Close your eyes."

Yeah, he thought, she's getting ready to say no. I'll be lucky if she doesn't slug me first.

xcxcxcxcxcxcxcxcx

Lila pressed both hands flat against her mouth, stifling whatever was trying to come out. A sob, probably. She'd find out later, when she tried to fall asleep tonight. When she knew she could take a soundless breath, she lowered her hands and checked her eyes with her fingertips. No tears, that was good. That meant she'd be ready very soon.

Her chest wasn't feeling stable yet, though, so she'd risk a few more seconds of his patience while she tried to pull herself together. Unbidden, her eyes were skimming over his body, stealing what they could for the long cold future. Stop it, she ordered her brain. If we're doing this, let's do it right, bottom to top. Take it all in and be done with it.

His boots. She liked his boots. They were solid and meant business and were fearless about what anyone else thought. They made her feel safe and ready.

His pants. Rough fabric, ugly even, there to get the job done. She knew the defense levels on them, had helped improve them on Mira. She decided she should move on quickly.

His chest, and she had to breathe twice, because she hoped like anything they'd cleared up the ugly scar from the attack. It wasn't any of her business now, but she checked the edges of his tank for any clue that the sunburst that had swallowed his heart had been smoothed away. He had his arms crossed again, and she lingered over his tattoos. She'd miss those, the lower one especially. She liked that he declared his love for his tools on his arm. There was a time when she'd traced that wrench, that hammer, as she fell asleep.

She forced her eyes upwards, to his face, his dear face. Here she was greedy, because unlike his chest, she could be sure that the scar was gone. His forehead went smoothly into his hair, his jaw line melted into his neck. His nose was as pugnacious and straight as before. If he opened his eyes, she'd see their deep-water grey.

She was ready. She'd tell him to open his eyes, say a polite no thank you, and return to the refueling job that would become the whole of her life. One solid breath first, one more moment staring at his face. She watched his silky eyebrows quirk suddenly.

She stared with amazement and the beginning of fury. She knew that expression. She'd seen it often enough on the ship. He was working on a problem. Here she was, trying not to let her heart break (again), and he was mentally tinkering with some engineering puzzle. She opened her mouth to complain, but her lungs squeezed tight as a realization hit her.

He was solving something, and she wanted to know what it was.

Frontier Nav could place a probe marker directly under her feet, a crimson light rising from the deepest core of the planet straight through her heart and into the heavens, and it wouldn't be clearer. She wanted to know, she would always want to know, and she would always want to have a part in it.

That was nothing to the second realization: she deserved to have that happen.

She had enough breath left to say, "You can open your eyes now."

xcxcxcxcxcxcxcxcxcx

She was going to say no, and the worst of it was that she might be trying not to cry. He listened carefully, but he couldn't pick up much of a hint from the woman he knew was still standing there. She'd be fine, he reassured himself. He listened, but all he could catch was the mechanical white noise of the Industrial District.

Not a bad sound to have as company. He concentrated harder, identifying all the familiar components, trying to calm himself. A construction skell rumbling past, reminding him of a complaint about emissions in the residential quarter. A team returning through the gate, their skells sounding smooth and cool. Must have been a local mission, no flight, those packs still got overheated, which was another thing on the to-do list to solve. A small whirring, sharp and insistent, pulled at his attention. Something about the twanging echo that came from the floor made him think it was Ma-non technology. He'd seen a few of those tiny automatic skell parking roombas running around Lila's station. He'd heard that they were a big part of the efficiency of the station, removing any need for humans to move the skells in and out of her bays, automatically removing finished jobs and bringing in the next. They looked like golden toasters and could lift a heavy skell and twirl it. Now that was something with possibilities, he thought. If BLADE could convince the Ma-non to make a few to do maintenance on Frontier Nav sites, maybe they wouldn't be risking teams every time they needed to change a fuse. Wouldn't want the Ganglion to get their mitts on that kind of thing, though. Maybe attach a Pathfinder to the set-up? He wouldn't mind sending H.B. on a vacation to Cauldros to monitor how well that worked. Temporarily, mind you.

"You can open your eyes."

She was frowning up at him impatiently, and his face grew hot. Holy crap, she had changed her mind. He fought to keep from grinning. "So, you okay with the idea?"

"Yes, I agree. We can be friends."

"Great." The grin he was hiding was threatening to wrap clean around his head. He tugged at his mustache instead. "We could do coffee. Thursday?"

She hesitated, then twisted her head wryly. "The Quickie Quickie mart has coffee."

He nodded, backing away from the original thought of ... he kept that thought elsewhere. "Fine, I can do my bit to keep you guys afloat. I'll bring you a pastry though."

Lila looked off into a corner of her station. He followed her gaze and tried to spot what she was noticing. Could have been a lot of things. He waited. He was ready when she snapped her glance back to him. "Do you have 15 minutes, sir?"

"For you, twenty." Very suave. He was proud of that answer.

"Gino," she shouted over her shoulder. "I'll be back in 15."

"Fuck you!" came her tech's standard reply.

"It's been clear all day, and it's almost sunset. There's a view I'd like you to see," she explained. She was walking around the Quickie Quickie mart, back towards the West Gate.

He followed, still curious. "You don't know about views, Lila."

"Not me. You said it was one of your favorites. It's an area that's pretty much out of use now. I just thought, you might not have seen it." They climbed the open metal stairs to an elevator platform. Lila punched the call button.

"You okay to go on this?" he asked.

"I can manage. The city walls help. At the top it opens up and you'll have to help. There's a tunnel off to the right. Help me get there and I'll be all right."

He stood behind her on the elevator platform. He noticed the moment that her fingers curled into the edges of the control panel. She didn't hunch, but he knew she would be too busy struggling against her agoraphobia to hear a word he said. He moved closer and curved his arms around her so that his hands rested just above hers on the metal frame. He didn't touch her, merely formed a shield against whatever she was fighting. He was glad to see her fingers relax enough to lose their bone white color, but that was nothing to what he felt when she leaned slightly back against him.

They reached the top in silence and he guided her gently to the corridor she had described. One step in and she looked up and shook herself free briskly.

"Thank you."

"Glad you noticed."

"I'm not barfing so someone must have helped. You're the only one here." She nodded. "It's this way."

He hadn't been down this corridor since the Whale was still in flight. He certainly hadn't been down it on Mira. The light from the planet was flooding down the tunnel, making the wiring and disabled panels sharp and edged in gold. She stopped about a meter from the exit.

"I'll let you go on, sir. There's a platform a few steps up from here. You promised to show it to me when we were restored." She fluttered a hand, then continued. "I'm glad I get to show it to you, more or less. I've got to get back now, so you'll have to go on alone." She nodded sharply in the direction of the platform and repeated, "Go on."

The moment he stepped into the fresh air, he knew it would be glorious. He caught the edge of a curving rock peeking over the stairway's railing. The tail of a sky whale flicked and vanished. He turned to thank her, only to see her small back retreating into the dimness.

Five steps and he'd caught up to her. She was not pleased to see him.

"Sir!" she chided him. "You're going to miss the sunset."

"I'm getting you back down safe. Can't have you falling down the elevator shaft."

"I've suffered worse. You really should take this chance. You never know if ..." She dropped her eyes to stare at her boots, then continued quickly, not looking at him. "The weather changes so much. You won't know when you'll have another chance."

"I know what it is and where. I'll come back for it." He gently took her arm under his. "Hey, did I ever say anything about the sunrise?"

"Not that I remember."

"Good. Maybe I'll get a chance to figure something out on my own for a change."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO.EX01 on loop to get editing DONE. Lila and Jack had a quite the thing (on fanfiction dot net The Lily and the BLADE) and then they broke up because mumblenotwrittenyetmumble (short version: shot and reset to factory settings, go see Inktober 2017/2/Divided, he's better now, don't worry), and I have been working very very hard to get them back together in my head. This was utterly self-indulgent nonsense, do not blame Draco for the prompt. I was going to do exactly what I wanted to because (counting this one) ...
> 
> YOOOOOOO I WROTE 34 STORIES IN 30 DAYS SO I DESERVE THIS OKAY?
> 
> Happy May and remember that May 29th is only 4 weeks away. We got this kids. If there was something you wanted to see, drop me a note and it may happen (years from now but it may happen).


End file.
